


The One You'd Take The Bullet For Pulled The Trigger

by Velocity_Owl87



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Developing Friendships, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Manipulation, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Relationships, Evil Plans, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Genderswap, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Introspection, Loss of Virginity, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Mission Related, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redemption, Sexual Content, Spies & Secret Agents, Steve Rogers Feels, Unhealthy Relationships, Unplanned Pregnancy, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 10:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21509641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velocity_Owl87/pseuds/Velocity_Owl87
Summary: Stevie Gracie Rogers is still dealing with the fallout of being awake seventy years in the future without her best friend and without much of a map to navigate this new time and role she's been thrust into again. She's trying to piece herself and her life together, but with nightmares and a less than steady job, she's at a loss.Things start looking up when she runs into Sam Wilson and meets Brock Rumlow and she's willing to start taking the steps into reaching out and having a life again.Only problem is that there are more secrets and an old enemy coming into play, as well as her own past coming to haunt her.  Now Stevie has to cope with betrayal, loss, and remorseful agents while trying to figure out how to put the world together and carve out a decent future.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Brock Rumlow, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers/Brock Rumlow, Steve Rogers/Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 82
Kudos: 30





	1. Don't Panic, No, Not Yet

**Author's Note:**

> I've been out Cap fandom for awhile, but inspiration hit and the idea of a reverse honeypot hit out of nowhere and this is the result. I wanted to play with the idea of a female Cap and Brock Rumlow honeypot cause well, Frank Grillo is hot. Won't even lie that is a big chunk of inspiration for this. This will be an earn your happy ending type of story and the title does come from "Miss Missing You" by Fall Out Boy. 
> 
> Tags will be updated regarding the situations that will appear in future chapters. Things will get darker before they get better, but there will be a hopeful ending for them.

_She clung to the train, edging out as far as possible to reach over to Bucky, who was reaching out to her, his blue eyes wide with fear as he reached out to her. She yelled out to him, but her words were blown away by the train and the wind. She struggled to reach him, yet her fingertips touched his._

_She just needed a few more seconds. Just a few more inches to reach him. Just a few…_

_The screech of metal filled her ears as did Bucky’s screams as he fell into the frozen valleys of the Alps._

_She could see him, still reaching out to her and then-_

Stevie jerked awake, her heart pounding in her chest and her hair plastered to her forehead, neck, and back. She breathed in deeply, trying to will away the lingering terror of her nightmare and to get her heart beating normally again. It was always like this when she had that particular dream. Even while she slept in the ice, she would have it. 

The hollow pain of loss came back again, making her choke back a sob as her hand tightened around Bucky’s dogtags she had recently started wearing. Tears clung to her eyelashes and she brushed them away before they spilled over. Stevie had done her mourning. Bucky was dead and gone and she knew that he wouldn’t want her to keep on mourning him.

She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, focusing on the rhythm of breathing in and breathing out until she and her grief were calm again. Once that had been achieved, she loosened her grip on Bucky’s dogtags and wiped the sticky hair off her cheeks and neck. She frowned at the tackiness of her skin and of the clamminess of her nightshirt, unpleasant reminders of her nightmares. 

Despite the most recent nightmare having been dealt with, her hands were still shaky and her mind remained filled with memories of Bucky, guaranteeing that she wouldn’t get back to sleep. A quick glance at her alarm clock showed her it was too late at any rate. She slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom, washing her face and neck before discarding her shirt and getting dressed in her running gear. 

She needed to get all the nervous energy that the nightmare and suppressing the grief of Bucky’s loss had filled her with. She needed it out if she was going to be useful again. Even though she wasn’t on the active roster of the Avengers at that moment, she was still working for SHIELD. It wasn’t on a regular basis like Nat or Clint, but she could get pulled into the field at short notice. So she had to be in some kind of functioning shape. 

Grabbing her keys, metro card, and phone, she slipped them in her track bottoms and zipped up the side pocket to make sure they didn’t slip out and headed out with no destination in mind. At least until she stepped out and on impulse, decided to head to the historical district. She could be alone and wear herself out. She had her card in case she wanted to take the Metro back. She was all set. 

Pushing it all out of her mind, she stretched out and took off running. Her mind going blank as her feet hit the pavement in a familiar rhythm, the city and her worries melting away as she ran. She moved in a large loop, circling around the large monuments twice before the sun rose. 

She was alone for the most part until her second loop, when she spotted him. He was running at a steady pace with dogged determination in a way that spoke of some kind of service training. Maybe it was that recognition which pushed the mischievous side of her to appear. 

Putting on a burst of speed, she passed by him.

“On your left.” 

She heard him sputter and try to catch up, but of course, she left him behind and ran up behind him. 

“On your left.” 

She heard him splutter behind him and she had to laugh as she ran past him again, leaving him in her wake as she ran on. She finished her run and went looking for him, finding him wheezing and ready to banter with her. 

They did for a few minutes and Stevie liked his dark brown eyes and his easy smile. She also liked that he knew who she was, but wasn’t starstruck. Not once did he address her by title or name and she found that she liked it. It made conversation easier and much more honest. He asked questions and listened to her answers. He never talked at her and he cut through the quick despite the easy banter. 

A banter that had her be caught a bit off guard when he cut to the heart of the matter.

“Is it the nightmares or the softness of your bed? Do you wake up too early and need to ground yourself? Or is it hard to sleep on a soft bed after bedding down wherever?”

She did start at that, blinking at the bluntness of the questions and shrewdness of his dark brown eyes. She wanted to run away from him, yet she held her ground. For once, she didn’t want to brush off the well-meaning concern. Not when it was honest and coming from a place of experience. She could see that shadow of sorrow at the bottom of his eyes and it was that which made her stay and continue the conversation. 

She nodded, brushing her braid behind her shoulder and planting her feet firmly on the pavement. 

“Who did you lose in the army?”

She asked, wincing a bit at being too blunt about his grief, but she couldn’t ignore the sadness in his eyes. He shrugged and his smile dimmed a bit. A recent loss then.

“That obvious huh?” Stevie felt herself blush, opening her mouth to apologise, but the man waved it away. 

“It’s okay. It was my partner in the Airforce. Riley was his name. I’m Sam. Sam Wilson by the way. Just realised that I should have made a mention of that earlier.” Stevie laughed quietly at that, shrugging. 

He held out his hand and she shook it. “Stevie Rogers.”

Sam laughed at that. “Not the Star-Spangled Gal?” 

Stevie made a face at that moniker. “I really hated that name. The first costume too.”

Sam smirked. “It would just cut all the old vets to the quick to hear you say that. Weren’t you like the most popular pin up of the Airforce well into the 60’s?”

Stevie snorted. “Yeah, well you try smashing a HYDRA base wearing just a minidress and heels and see how well you do. You’d be begging for a tactical uniform too.”

Sam laughed at that, nodding. “I hear you on that. Say you got any plans today?”

Stevie was about to reply when she noticed Natasha pulling up to the curb. The window slid down to reveal her smirking face and Stevie noticed the appreciative glance Sam threw her. 

“Maybe later? Today looks busy if my ride over there has anything to say about it.”

Natasha smiled, giving just enough of a coy flirty vibe that made Sam grin.

“I do. Stevie, we gotta go. Tell your boy toy there when to meet you later.”

Stevie blushed crimson down to her neck, but Sam only laughed it off. 

“Look me up at the VA. I run a meeting on Thursdays at seven. I think it might be good for you to come. Maybe we can get some coffee after, if you’d like.”

Sam’s eyes were soft and Stevie felt like her face was going to burst into flames. Despite them just meeting, she had a good feeling about Sam. He was a good guy and she could use some more of them in her life. As much as she wanted to shy away from letting others into her life, she felt that it would be a loss if she did that with Sam. 

She exhaled, nodding at his invitation. She felt her cheeks heat up even more at his bright smile. 

“Great! I’ll see you then. I’m always out running. You’re welcome to join me if you want.”

“Thanks. I’ll take you up on it when I can. Bye Sam. Nice meeting you.”

Sam grinned. “It was all my pleasure. See you around Ms Rogers.”

He waved before running off, leaving Stevie to climb into Natasha’s sleek car and slip the seatbelt on. 

“Don’t start, Nat.” Stevie forestalled any comments that she _knew_ Nat was going to make in regards to Sam. Who only gasped, pretending to be shocked at Stevie’s statement.

“Start what? Asking questions about your boy toy there?” Nat asked, proceeding to do just that and making Stevie groan and laugh helplessly. Nat only smirked as she drove into traffic, making Stevie wonder when was the last time she had laughed without abandon. 

“His name is Sam Wilson and we met on our run. Nothing more, so get any idea about us being more than friends out of your head. He works at the VA so dropping by would be a good idea, I think.”

Natasha made a soft noise at that, pulling Stevie’s attention from the scenery and towards her friend and occasional team member. 

“It might be. We all need lives outside of the missions. Clint has his family. Tony has his business. Thor has Asgard. Maybe it’s time that you get something else too.” 

Stevie nodded as she sat back. She knew that Nat meant well by giving her opinion, but she could also hear what Nat wasn’t saying. Namely that Sam was a potential candidate for her to have what the other Avengers had. And if he didn’t live up to expectations, well, she could only hope that Nat wasn’t too hard on him. 

Nat flicked a glance at her and smirked when she saw that Stevie had understood. 

“Yeah, well it has to wait. Where are we being deployed?”

“The Indian Ocean. We’re dealing with Pirates.” Natasha’s mouth puckered up before she continued. “And we’re not working it alone. We’re getting help in the form of STRIKE.”

Stevie raised an eyebrow at Nat’s expression. “What’s wrong with them?”

Nat shook her head. “Nothing per say. But the leader of STRIKE...Let’s just say that you may need different tactics to deal with him. Think Stark in his moods, but turned up to eleven.”

Stevie nodded.She rubbed her face roughly and exhaled loudly. Great. She couldn’t get a break, could she? 

“Alright. So what else do we have to work with?”

~*~*~*~*~

Stevie gave Natasha a _look_ when they were in the carrier with the STRIKE operatives. A look that Natasha pretended to ignore, focusing straight ahead as the leader, a Brock Rumlow, started to give them more intel. Intel she had a hard time focusing due to the man being that distracting. 

The first thing she noticed when they stepped into the carrier was the sheer masculinity of him. He was built like god, to use the cliche and had the chiseled features to match. Dark eyes, a stubbled jaw, and carefully styled hair completed the picture; and Stevie had to stop herself from openly staring at him and the others behind him. Even if they were that good looking. The hostages wouldn’t forgive her if she missed crucial intel because she was ogling.

Nat brushed by her, stepping on her foot to bring her back into the game and stop ogling the men in front of her. She looked away, but she was sure that Rumlow had noticed by the way his gaze lingered a bit too long on her after telling her what her job would be. Stevie swallowed and nodded, pushing anything but the mission away. She had a job to do. 

She came back to herself to catch the important parts and nodded when Rumlow ended his intel session. Oddly enough, Nat had been wrong about him being like Stark. Maybe similar in the looks department, but everything he had laid out to her had been logical, precise, and within parameters she could work with. Stark hadn’t given her that until almost the end.

“Got that, Captain Rogers?” Rumlow asked, in a voice that reminded her far too much of good aged whiskey, too many cigarettes, and gravelly promises in a darkened bedroom. His accent could have been New York, but it was flattened enough for her to not be sure. Catching her thoughts, she quickly nodded. 

He grinned at her, a flash of teeth that was gone as he stepped back and gestured for her to take her place. Right. She was the lead. 

She moved to the open hangar, checking for the ship that Rumlow had said would be there. She tucked the end of her braid into her uniform, touching the dogtags she had hidden there earlier and tugged on her gloves. She checked her shield was strapped on her back. She was all set. 

“Don’t forget, you gotta keep that date with Sam.” Nat stated, making Rumlow and a few of the operatives stop and stare at Stevie, who only rolled her eyes.

“It’s coffee only. What kind of a gal do you think I am, Nat? Really.” 

Before Nat could exactly tell her what kind of gal she was, she jumped out of the carrier, effectively ending the conversation. 

~*~*~*~*~

Brock Rumlow hated to admit it, but he was quietly panicking as he made his way through the Triskelion towards Director Pierce’s office. A summons alone with the Director wasn’t always a good thing and he frantically ran through the latest missions his team had done to try and find out what, if anything, had gone wrong. He couldn’t think of anything, but again, one never knew with Pierce. 

So he walked and hoped that his instincts were simply keyed up to the max after the last mission working beside Captain Rogers and Romanova. Sure, he nearly had a heart attack at seeing the Captain leap out of the carrier and then hold her own with Batroc, but for the most part, he had enjoyed working with them. They were as competent as their team and he hoped that they would be teamed up on missions in the future. 

That was if everything went to plan. There had been something off about Romanova’s last minute inclusion and he would figure out. They were on a deadline after all. 

Making a mental note of it, he entered the open office to see the director looking at something on his laptop and several paper files scattered about the top of his sleek and modern desk. Brock managed to see that some were on the Captain Rogers and some on Sergeant Barnes before the other man, an All American type with blonde hair and blue eyes that hid the cruelty he was capable of, came out from behind the desk and blocked his view. 

“Rumlow. You got my message. How was the Captain?”

Brock stood at ease, his stance as nonchalant as he could make it as he did. 

“Performed as was expected of her and more, sir. She would be a good asset to be paired up with.” Brock replied honestly. The older man nodded to himself in confirmation at his words, making Brock wonder what was in store for him and the Captain. 

“Good to know. But on a personal level: What was her reaction to you?”

Brock’s brow furrowed as he tried to recall what exactly had been Captain Roger’s reaction. He recalled her pausing when she saw him, taken aback at the sight of him. She had been quiet and focused, but there was a kind of carnal interest in her eyes that Romanova distracted her from physically and then verbally. 

He had been around long enough to know when a woman was interested. Even one raised in the 30’s and 40’s and a devout Catholic, if the chain around her neck had been any indication. Yet he couldn’t be sure, since there had been the whole Sergeant Barnes situation and the speculation whether _that_ had gone anywhere was still rife. And he knew he was a completely different type of man than the type that Barnes was.

“She did look interested. But then, it could have been just her taking me in as a field operative. Romanova did have to get her to focus while we were running over intel.”

Director Pierce smiled thinly at that. “It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. You have a mission, Rumlow. Off the books.”

Brock gave a sharp, jerky nod at that. “Infiltration?”

“No. Honeypot. Fury has begun to be a concern and we can’t have the good Captain doing his dirty work for him. At least until the Helicarriers are fully operational. Hopefully if you have completed your assignment by then, we will have something to ensure the good Captain’s cooperation.”

Brock swallowed hard and tried to will his face to remain still at the news. Pierce wanted _him_ to honeypot Captain Rogers? America’s Icon of patriotism and morality? Pierce might as well be asking him to seduce a saint while he was at it. 

“Sir, with all due respect, it’s an impossible task. Especially since she could still be grieving Sergeant Barnes. It’s not been years for her. And going what was in her files, it seems unlikely she would change loyalties that quickly if that’s the case.” Brock pointed out, hoping he wouldn’t get a punch in the face for stating his reservations.

“Don’t believe all that you find in the files, Rumlow. It could be the case, but from what surveillance tells us, highly doubtful.” He smiled coldly then. 

“I’m willing to lay good money she might be ready for a change, being as lonely and as lost as she is. A new century and no one to spend time showing her how to cope. Or help her deal with PTSD she’s no doubt suffering. No one well adjusted goes on runs at dawn.” 

Pierce paused to let the points sink in, watching as understanding crossed Brock’s face.

“She’s ripe for something new and with someone not attached to her past or the Avengers. So don’t fail, would be my advice. You know how HYDRA deals with failures”

Brock swallowed hard at the threat, nodding to show he understood his duties.

“Understood, Sir. When does my mission start?”

Pierce looked at his watch. “Tomorrow at nine hundred hours. The Captain is due for a meeting with you to coordinate future mission efforts. Make sure you’re presentable. Dismissed."


	2. I tell you lies, but only sometimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Stevie meet, starting Brock's assignment and both learn more about each other, finding more things than they ever expected to. Their meeting though, doesn't go unnoticed.

Brock walked into the glass-walled meeting room at the Triskelion expecting everything and anything the next morning. He knew he was a little early, but wanted to have the time to compose himself for the meeting. He entered the room and let the door swing closed behind him as he took the nearest seat by the door. He dropped his backpack beside it and got himself settled. He figured that it would be better if he left the two chairs at the end for Captain Rogers and the Director.

He made a face at the idea of Pierce and his mission being in the same room. One would be tough enough to handle. The two of them? He was good, but not _that_ good. He rubbed his mouth, honestly wishing he could have a shot of whiskey to calm his frayed nerves. It was only an impulse born out of anxiety over the situation though and he dismissed the thought as soon as it came. 

He wasn't really a drinker. He had seen where that led and the last thing he ever wanted was to end up sleeping in his own urine in a flophouse somewhere, forgotten and a slave to the bottle. His hands curled up with both disgust and fear, the memories of being in Hell's Kitchen too close to the surface. He probably would have started to dig his own nails into the palms of his hands if it hadn't been for the tactful rapping at the glass door.

He forced his old memories down and quickly schooled his features into a neutral mask, waving her into the meeting room. She frowned at seeing him there, but quickly composed herself and pushed the door open. And yet again, Brock had to push down his emotions at the sight of her in the doorway.

Captain Rogers was a woman with a strong presence, something he had only just gotten a hint of in the carrier the night before. It had been hard to believe at that moment that she was the same woman who decimated HYDRA in WWII. At least until today. 

Seeing her in the light and out of her dark uniform, he could believe it. She stood out like those backlit Dutch paintings he had been dragged to see during another mission in Amsterdam. He hadn’t been much for art, but his eyes had been drawn to the contrast of the subject and the background and the Captain had that exact same quality as those paintings.

She drew every eye in the room to her like a magnet, even when she was dressed down in a simple jacket, blouse, and jeans combo. No purse, but a messenger bag with a program sticking out of it. Clearly she had plans after this meeting. A museum maybe?

(He inwardly groaned. Why did all the targets seem to have similar tastes? Why didn’t any of them like something like going to the range or playing video games?)

He came back to himself when she entered the room completely, a wary look in her blue eyes as she came in. He got the impression she knew he had been sizing her up by the cool glance she threw him before she sat down across from him, her boots thumping on the carpeted ground. 

No heels. Huh. He was surprised, since he had seen what she wore in the forties. But then she hadn’t been constantly under fire and she hadn’t been trained like Romanova. And heels wouldn’t have been a good idea over the rough terrain she had to work with.

He nodded at her. “Captain Rogers. Agent Brock Rumlow.”

She nodded. “I got that last night. Good job by the way, your team is top notch.”

Brock cleared his throat, feeling a bit of pride at her words. He had done the most to have a coherent unit and to have a master tactician acknowledge it was something. 

“Thank you, ma’am. We have been together in some hot spots, so it’s good to see the training hasn’t gone to waste.” His eyes flickered over her, taking in more details in what he hoped was a subtle matter. The chain was still around her neck, but held dogtags, rather than a crucifix like he had thought. No ring on her hand and her makeup was tasteful, but not overdone like Romanov’s was sometimes. 

“Got your eyeful, Agent Rumlow?” Captain Rogers asks tartly, making Brock snort in amusement. 

“Of course Captain Rogers. I was going to ask if I could take a picture for later if you’re okay with that.” Brock shot back, making her bark out a laugh. 

“Why not? You asked, so that’s something.” Captain Rogers replied, making it Brock’s turn to laugh then. 

“People don’t, I’m guessing?” Brock asked, despite knowing the answer. He had looked her up online and he actually was surprised that she wasn’t much more jaded than she was. Some of the stuff was factual. Some was outright gushing over her. And some...Well, he had actually needed to report some of those sites and watch cat videos as an antidote for the stuff he thankfully only got a glimpse of. And even then a glimpse was too much. 

Captain Rogers shook her head. “That’s just the least of it. I’ve had some creeps ask why I don’t wear the skirt anymore. They were pissed they couldn’t get “better shots” of me.” She made air quotes with her hand at the last one, making Brock cringe and be glad that he had put out the tips. Not that he was super altruistic, but there was always a line not to be crossed. 

And the idea of anyone exploiting an American Icon like her didn’t sit right with him. It felt gross and toxic in a way that his day job didn’t. HYDRA had a clear objective in mind. Captain Rogers porn and human trafficking was not that. Not even by proxy. 

Brock makes a face at that. “Creeps are everywhere. I don’t recommend googling yourself too often, Captain. You’d vomit.”

Captain Rogers wrinkled her nose, making a disgusted sound at that. 

“I’ll take your word for it, Agent Rumlow.” She smiled briefly before looking at her phone, then looking out into the office area before turning back to him again. 

“So is that your specialty? Trawling the deep web for creeps or catching pirates?” She asked as she sat back in her chair, putting down her bag on the table and reminding Brock of his own bag with his laptop. 

He shrugged. “Anything of a delicate matter, really. I started out dealing with hostage situations in the Middle East and Latin America. All the hotspots. We got good enough that we get called in for all the good stuff.”

That made her snort with amusement. “So you were in the Ukraine and the Crimea?” 

Brock’s jaw worked. He had actually done more than that and the memories _still_ shook him up. 

“Something like that, Captain Rogers.” He conceded. “World’s different than being all over Western Europe.”

Her eyes changed then, narrowing speculatively and he wondered if she was going to pry, but she kept her mouth shut and turned to look at the clock on the wall behind her.

“Was Director Pierce supposed to show up to this meeting? I was under the impression that he would be here also. Since it’s strategy and STRIKE logistics. I mean, does he want to recruit me in this? Or does he want a consultation?”

Brock shrugged, pulling out his phone to scroll through his messages. “Something might have come up and since he’s the Director, he’s probably needed somewhere to put out the fire. Check your phone. He may have sent you a note.”

Captain Rogers nodded and did just that while Brock did the same. He was pretty sure that the Director had no intention of showing up when he opened up his email and saw one email. 

“ _Your mission starts now, Rumlow. Don’t fail it.”_

He deleted it and found the Captain frowning at her phone, her mouth pressed in a thin line as she locked her screen. She put it back in her pocket and looked at Brock. 

“So it’s just us and he wants a trial run of us together. So where do you want to start? I have some of the old mission dossiers…” She trailed off, pulling out a sleek laptop and pulling it open to show what she had done. Brock pulled it closer, scrolling through and nodding to himself at the notes and additions she had made. 

“It’s a good start, but the note on Mogadishu, I can tell you that there wasn’t anything else to be done.We had to get the hostages out so it meant casualties. Besides, it’s not like we had you on the roster, Captain Rogers.”

Her face shuttered at the title and her lips tightened just a bit before she turned to Brock. 

It was all he could do to not shudder at the sharpness of her eyes as they raked over his face. 

“First, tell me what you would have done if I had been there and second of all, if we are to work together, you can drop the title and the “ma’am” I’m not a relic. Rogers will do.”

He nodded at that, as if he was considering it. “Fine, Cap- _Rogers_. Just as long as you call me Rumlow. Agreed?”

Rogers smiled in reply. “Alright Rumlow. So tell me, what would you have done?”

~*~*~*~*

“So that’s the last mission dossier?” Stevie asked sometime later, stretching in her chair and groaning in relief as her spine popped back into place. Word documents had been filled and her notebook had enough diagrams and procedures in it for later perusal. Rumlow kept meticulous notes and clear reports and she had to admit that it wasn’t what she expected from the man. He was sharp and yes, she had known on some level, or else the mission wouldn’t have gone off as well as it had. He had planned the extraction. She had helped and Nat...Stevie still wasn’t sure what Nat was up to, nor did she care to get involved. All she knew was that Fury had a hand in it and that was enough for her. 

But Rumlow had surprised her with his skills. She didn’t show it though, as she pressed and asked questions as they went through the dossiers and even wrote up their first shared mission. There was something else there and as much as she was attracted, she couldn’t help but to hold back still. 

Rumlow was as wounded as her and Sam, but there was a dark edge to it borne out of seeing too much and too soon. He hadn’t had an easy life, the wrong intonations that slipped in some words was too street and too New York to ignore. Not the Bronx. Or Harlem. Hell’s Kitchen was her guess. The “Semper Fi” tattoo on his bicep that she caught a glimpse of when the sleeve of his (sinfully) tight black shirt rode up told her another part of the story. 

The scarring she glimpsed when he shifted in his seat told of something else that had her only just suppressing the impulse to reach out and offer comfort. She had recalled it not going well when she did it to Bucky, so she held back. But it had been a struggle. He was alive in ways that were too sharp and clear and made her self-control fray something awful. 

It honestly had been a miracle she hadn’t done anything during the whole time they had sat there. It had made her wonder when she had gone to the bathroom, what exactly was going on. She had been ambivalent when it came to Tony, Clint, and Thor. Sam had awoken something, but Rumlow...It felt as if she had finally woken up from a long, long dream and was seeing the world again.

She picked up her cup of coffee, courtesy of the Director’s apologetic assistant and took a long swallow as she filed that for later examination while waiting for Rumlow to respond.

Rumlow nodded, stretching out as well before saving the reports and shutting down his laptop. 

“At least until the next time and who knows what that mission will be.” He replied, standing up and walking around to stretch his legs out and giving Stevie a good view of his fit body. She kept staring until Brock turned around, making her start down at her own files. She hoped he hadn’t caught her, but she knew he had when she looked up and saw him smirking at her. 

“Got your eyeful, Rogers?” He teased her, making her flush slightly. “Or do you want a picture for later as well?”

Stevie flushed, laughing awkwardly as she too, shut down and packed up. Rumlow shrugged. 

“You walked into that one, Cap. No harm done. But if you’re free sometime? Maybe we could go for a drink and talk? Not just shop.”

He came close, but not too close. His dark eyes were shadowed and looked like warm pools in deep woods. Pools she found herself wanting to swim in. They weren’t anything like Bucky’s rainwater blue. Or Sam’s warm darkness. They were wild and primal and spoke to her in ways that she hadn’t felt in years. 

She swallowed the last of her coffee to buy time to think about his offer. She was tempted. Oh was she tempted. She wanted to get to know him in a less sterile (and less bugged) place than the Triskelion. She shifted, and her eyes fell on the brochure for the Smithsonian someone had pressed onto her this morning. 

Seeing the blue and red of the glossy paper made her shake her head and gather her things. 

“So that’s a no then?” Rumlow asked lightly. 

“For right now. I have a few things I need to take care of. Once I do, ask me again. It won’t be a no. I promise.” 

Rumlow nodded, his mouth pulling up into a lopsided smile. “I can do that. As long as it’s not an outright no. I can wait.”

Stevie pushed away from the table and stood up. “Sounds good. I’ll see you.”

He gave her a quick nod, any other farewell he was going to give her cut short by his phone buzzing at him. She saw him answer it as she turned to go to the Smithsonian. 

~*~*~*~*~

Fury frowned at the screen, the intel Romanov had passed to him still uncracked. It didn’t bode well that his best hackers were working on it and hadn’t made much headway. 

He rubbed his face and wondered if he would need outside help when he got a message from Hill. 

_“Just saw Captain Rogers leaving along with Agent Rumlow. Any reason why either of them were called in?”_

He stroked his chin as he re-read the message. This _was_ a new development indeed. He hadn’t called her in, their agreement being that she was a retainer. 

Unless...

_“Wouldn’t know. Keep tabs on it.”_

Hill gave an affirmative and he went back to puzzling over the encrypted files, his hands folded in front of his face as he did. 

The two incidents were connected. But how?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brock's background-I'm going with him being a Marine for reasons that will become clear later. He's also been on black ops, so his resume is going to be all over the place and will be expanded on in the future.  
> Stevie-She's kind of blandly dressed because she's still figuring herself out and she doesn't feel ready to glam up like she did in the 40's. Maybe later.  
> Fury-He's piecing it together, but it's not on the same timeline as in the movie. I'm playing fast and loose with that.


	3. I am not the one trying to forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie and Sam talk more than they got to last time and introduces Stevie to something new, leading Stevie to reflect on what steps she needs to take to rebuild. 
> 
> Jack, knowing the pressure Brock is under, takes him outside and unwittingly provides a a solution to Brock's woes.

Stevie let out a sigh of relief when she entered the VA office and saw the scattered chairs and the beat up coffee maker still on the beat up desk pressed into service as a coffee stop. Sam himself was in the far corner, moving away from the chairs he had just stacked there. He turned in time to see her and lit up when he walked up to her, giving her a one armed shake as they exchanged greetings. 

“You’re a bit early, Cap. Caught me wrapping up here. So if you don’t mind waiting for a bit, we can be on our way.” Sam stated, straightening up some pamphlets on the rack that looked mussed up and out order.

Stevie shrugged, then walked to the scattered chairs and efficiently stacked them up and hauled them to their spots while Sam just watched, the pamphlets still in his hands. 

“Never mind then. Won’t take us long at all.” He stated as he finished with the pamphlets and went to take care of the coffee maker. 

“I wasn’t going to just stand there and watch. If I can help, I will.” Stevie replied, following him into the little kitchen area. She looked around and once she spotted the dishcloths, she grabbed one and took it towards the sink where Sam was rinsing out the coffee pot. 

Sam shot her a look and shook her head. “It’s amazing how much of a good person you are, Cap. Most people wouldn’t have jumped in unless a big hint was given. You just jumped right in.” 

Stevie snorted. “It’s called being courteous. Did they forget to teach that nowadays?”

Sam winced. “Touche, Cap. Touche.” 

Stevie shook her head and went to pick up the creamer and sugar containers, plus the stirrer container, and took it to Sam. She went to wipe up the table and pushed it back. Once it was as decent as she could make it, she went back to Sam, who was putting the coffee pot and other supplies away. 

She nodded to him as she went to rinse the cloth and hang it on the sink to dry. She turned from her task to find Sam watching her, his expression unreadable as he handed her a tea towel for her hands. She dried her hands, buying time as she tried to parse the expression on his face. 

“Are things that much worse than in the old days?” Sam’s tone was light, but Stevie could already pick out that professional tone in his voice. He meant well, but she didn’t want a session. She wanted an evening with a friend, not a counselor. 

“Are you kidding? No epidemics. The water is clean. Vaccinations. Feminism. The internet, pretty useful. Some things are odd, but they’re small potatoes compared to the benefits.”

Sam nodded to himself as he turned towards the exit. “Funny, I was expecting something about the good old days.”

Stevie shook her head as she followed behind him, leaving a bit of distance between them. 

“I lived through the Depression and served in Europe. I’m the last person to say that things were better. I wasn’t always like this, you know. It was a miracle that I even made it out of my childhood years.”

Sam made a soft noise of agreement as they headed to the exit, pausing only for him to grab his jacket and keys, turn out the lights, and lock up. 

“Well, that’s done. If you ever want to come earlier to talk, you know where the place is. Now shall we see about getting that coffee? Maybe dinner?”

He knew he had crossed a line when he saw the blush that crept up her face, making her appear fragile and vulnerable in ways that he hadn’t thought she’d be able to look. He always had been told she had been this indomitable warrior, so to see her blushing at his invitation was beyond anything he had imagined happening. 

“It’s not a date.” He found himself explaining. “I just thought since it’s the evening and I hadn’t had dinner yet, that you’d want to join me. Just like friends do.”

Stevie’s face lost most of its rosiness as understanding dawned on her. 

“I could eat, for sure. But you’re going to have to pick a place. I just moved here, so I haven’t an idea what’s actually good or not. Yelp only does so much. Most people complain about inane things like parking rather than the actual menu.”

Sam snorted a laugh as the went to the parking lot and towards his car, a nondescript, but nice car. “I hear you. I so hear you. Luckily, I know a few places. So shall we?”

Stevie nodded as she let herself into the car. “Sure. Let’s go for it.”

~*~*~*~*~

Sam sipped his iced tea as he watched Stevie happily finish her plate of fish tacos and grab her own peach iced tea, downing half of it in one go. 

“Colour me impressed, Wilson. You certainly knocked it out of the ballpark. How did you find this place?” Stevie asked, wiping her mouth with her napkin before looking around the restaurant, which was a riot of colourful murals and decorations of a fanciful Mexico. A Mexico Sam was sure was far trippier than the actual country itself. 

Stevie didn’t seem to mind, since she was taking all of the colours and shapes and textures in, making Sam recall that she had been an artist. And a damned good one, if her sketchbooks and some of her pre-war work were any proof. He patted himself on the back as he watched the clear delight and interest in the decor that hung from the ceilings and the walls. Even the chairs were carved with scenes and painted bright colours.

“Just happened to stumble upon it after I had been discharged. It was the _pescado en verde_ that brought me in. Have been coming in since. I wanted a place that was new and far removed from all the things I had been through. Luckily this place was right there and I’ve been coming ever since.”

Sam explained, tracing lines down the condensation of his glass, not wanting to meet her eyes in case she saw something else. Namely how broken down and hollow he had been after that first tour and how plagued by nightmares of sand, oppressive heat, the smell of explosives and…

He was surprised by her hand covering his up and squeezing it in sympathy. He looked up and met her eyes, dark and full of empathy for him. It wasn’t pity and he was grateful that she wasn’t looking at him like that. Others would have, but not her. 

“S _he was a soldier too.”_ He reminded himself, surprised that he had forgotten that important fact about her. Before he knew anything about her as a person, he knew that fact. Just like he knew about Sergeant Barnes’ death and the sacrifices she had to make to help with the war effort. 

“It helped, didn’t it? Not to have a constant reminder and having something else to keep your mind off what is always there, lurking in the back of your mind. Out of any place to go, you could have gone to worse places. At least the food here is good.”

She was right. It had helped. He’d never been to Mexico and the warmth of the staff, as well as the delicious food had helped take the chill out of his soul. Had helped to get him on the path to healing and getting pieces of himself back again. 

“Even though I had to play catch up in this time, I didn’t mind it. Being back in Brooklyn after the war, without Bucky...I doubt that I would have done even half as well as you.” She added. 

She frowned as one thing occurred to her, which was quickly vanished by an amused grin.

“Well, the Chitauri invasion I could have done without, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

Sam snorted as she smiled a bit sadly as she then patted his hand and pulled away to take a sip of her own iced tea. 

He knew then, he had seen a glimpse of Stevie that no one else had even gotten a hint of. Or possibly ever would. And it was seeing that familiarity that prompted the offer he made her.

Sam cleared his throat. “You know...You’re always welcome to come earlier and we could come here after.”

Her mouth quirked up. “Start a tradition of sorts?”

Sam smiled back. “You could say that. How about it?”

Stevie finished her iced tea and nodded. “Sure. I’d like that. Yes.”

~*~*~*~*~

Stevie found herself sitting at her dining room table, sketchbook open and pencil in hand, as she quickly worked to put down the details of the restaurant. Swing music played in the background, providing much needed distraction in the apartment and she drew, while weighing Sam’s invitation in her mind.

She knew that he meant well and it was possibly a good idea. It wasn’t like it had been in the past, where no one talked about the cost of war. You just went on with life and did the best that you could. She had to admit that it made sense for her generation to be the silent one. No one talked much about anything. They were too busy surviving. 

She put her pencil down and smudged up a bit of the page, wondering what Bucky would think about that. 

_“What are you waiting for, punk? No sense in just sitting around and wallowing. Get out there. Live, Stevie. Live.”_

She sighed, sitting back in her chair, her hand automatically going to the dogtags hanging around her neck. Bucky would say that. He hadn’t let her wallow after her Ma had passed. Even when he could have been out with better gals than what she had been back then, he spent time with her. Taking her to the pictures and backing her up when they no doubt would end up in an argument and then a fight. 

She huffed out an amused laugh, shaking her head at the memories she had of him. Of how joyous and alive he had been. How despite the poverty and the long hours, they had enough time to have those small joys. Winters weren’t as cold with him beside her and she could always find the strength to get over the colds that would plague her in the winter. 

_“And besides, you did say you wanted to move on. Hence the reason for relocating. You could have easily wallowed in Brooklyn.”_ Her mind pointed out, sounding a little too much like Bucky for comfort. 

She had come to DC to rebuild her life and quite possibly even to come to grips with her past and lay it to rest. It had been part of why she had started to talk to Rumlow and why she had forced herself to go see Peggy and to go see the exhibit at the Smithsonian. 

Her lips tightened as she recalled the bittersweet ache at having seen the displays, the uniforms and the film footage, moving in that jerky way that old film seemed to. It had been a monumental effort on her part to not react when she had watched the clip of her and Bucky laughing at something or other.

Despite being in his undershirt, tired and with a stubbled face, he was still the same handsome Bucky she had known and loved all those years ago. He hadn’t had too much to laugh or smile about during the war, but when he did...It would take her breath away. 

She could see the devotion in her eyes. Just like she could see it in his. If only they had had more time. Maybe then she could have taken the chance and-

Stevie shook her head, let go of the dogtags to pick up her pencil to add a few more details to her drawing. She wasn’t _quite_ on board with the idea and exposing herself, yet she knew it was necessary. She needed to start the process of healing the wounds in her psyche and it was a start. 

And that was something at least. 

~*~*~*~*~

Brock gave the bag one last blow, making it jerk and dance on the chain, walking away before it settled and ran into Jack Rollins. 

“For Christ’s sake, Jack! What’s the idea?” Brock hissed, his hands up and ready to defend or attack, as his SIC only looked at him with that unimpressed expression of his. His green eyes were hooded and all six foot four of him was leaning against the doorway. His dark hair was combed back, but not as severely as during missions, the ends curling down to his collar. 

Brock lowered his hands and glared at Jack, who was used to his superior’s glares and simply stared back at him. 

“You need to loosen up, Rumlow.” Was all the response he got, making Brock snort as he grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat off of his face. 

“Not like I can with what Pierce has got me on.” Brock shot back as he grabbed his wash bag and another towel. 

He hated to admit it, but he hadn’t made much progress with the Captain. She was warm and friendly enough while they worked together, but nothing more. Even when he had given her broad hints, she had only smiled and held back. It had been weeks and he looked like he was no closer than he had been the first time they had been alone. 

Pierce hadn’t been pleased about the slow progress and was giving him meaningful looks that Brock didn’t want to think about much. He knew what they meant and he was trying to speed things up, but as always, it didn’t work. 

“I get it. I do. But giving yourself a heart attack isn’t going to help matters. You’re too wound up. You need a change of scenery. So go get cleaned up and meet me back here. I know a place and besides, you never know. It might help in solving that dilemma of yours.”

Brock gave him one last look, nodding slightly before going into the showers. 

“You going to tell me what’s so special about this place then?” Brock asked twenty minutes later as they drove into DC. 

“Just trust me on this. You’ll like it.” Jack replied, while Brock only rolled his eyes, grumbling a bit at Jack’s silence. Despite being annoyed, he let it go. Jack had an unerring sixth sense at finding decent bars or restaurants. Even in places like Astana and Montevideo. That was the only reason why he wasn’t already demanding to get home to work on how to get the honeypot rolling.

Jack only shook his head and kept on driving, finally pulling up to a place that Brock thought looked slightly better than some of those hole in the wall places in Hell’s Kitchen. The awning was a bit garish, and the facade outside faded, but that didn’t matter once they stepped inside. 

It was all Brock could do not to drool as the mouthwatering scents of good food, just right with spice, filled the entire dining area, which still had room as they made their way to an empty booth close the kitchen. The decor was loud and unapologetically foreign, making Brock think of the times he had been in Chiapas and Oaxaca. The tables and booths were brightly coloured and despite it being far removed from the places he went, Brock found himself liking it. 

It wasn’t quite the bodegas or the eateries in his old neighborhood, but they had the same feel. Even the music, a mix of rancheras and the Smiths for some reason, made him think of them. This was what was going through his mind as he checked the escape routes before he sat facing the door while Jack took the other spot, sitting sideways while he chatted with the waitress as she brought over a pitcher of ice water and menus. 

Jack opened his menu and studied the offerings smugly, while Brock rolled his eyes as he poured water for both of them. 

“Fine. Fine. you made your point. This place isn’t bad. What are you having?”

Jack closed his menu. “The fish in green sauce. I’d say try the barbecue tacos. Since it’s your first time and all that.”

Brock looked at him suspiciously, but took his advice and ordered them and a bottle of Mexican pop that Jack gave him an approving glance for doing so. He could have had one of the beers, but he knew better than to drink at that moment. As much as he wanted to deny it, Jack was right. He was wound up far too tight and he had learned his lesson about drinking then.

“The mission...Is it something that the team has to be prepared for?” Jack asked,moving his empty glass away from the laminated placemat showing some idyllic fishing scene somewhere in Mexico. 

“Nah. It’s a one man kind of deal. And proving to be exasperating. Having a deadline isn’t helping matters either.” 

Brock replied, while Jack nodded and looked down at his mat again. 

“What happens if it needs to be aborted?” 

Brock shrugged. “No clue. But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Jack only looked at him, but said nothing. They both knew what could happen. They knew it very well. But neither one said it. 

They sat in silence until their food arrived and Brock was again swallowing hard as the platter of tacos was put in front of him. 

He reached out for the sauces and did a double take when he saw exactly what Jack had ordered.

“Is that an _entire_ fish?” 

Jack grinned, reaching over for more green sauce. “Yes it is. I mean I _told_ you I was having the fish in green sauce. Why are you surprised?”

Brock raised an eyebrow at the question. “That’s an entire fish. With fins. And a head. Like who eats that?”

Jack grinned. “Me.”

Brock rolled his eyes. “You would. I thought the guinea pig in Peru cured you of that.”

Jack laughed loudly at that, making a few patrons at the nearby tables turn to find the source of the noise. 

Brock made note of them, sizing them up to make sure that they were no threat to him or Jack. The last thing that they needed was attention. Two of the couples glanced at them without interest. 

The last one that had been standing at the door, looking for seats though...

“Rumlow?”

Brock’s eyes widened and he nearly choked on his own spit while Jack spun around, his hand already under the table, no doubt with a weapon in it as they saw who it was that called out his name. 

“Captain Rogers?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meeting aftermath-Based on RL observations, kind of thing.  
> Mexican Restaurant-Totally my dream place in regards to decor and what I'd like to have served there. The music is honestly a nod to Luis and his grandmother's juke box. Yup.  
> Sam and Stevie-He's aware that in the '40's, mores were different. He's also aware that even if he was inclined, Stevie doesn't need a boyfriend as much as she needs a friend.  
> It's still a bit of a slow burn here, since even though Stevie is more willing to open up, it won't be quite soon. And yes, I was hungry while writing this. 
> 
> And to everyone taking the chance on this, greatly appreciated and I hope you enjoy!


	4. Here comes the heat before we meet a little closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock and Stevie get closer at the restaurant and Brock is coming to a few unpleasant realisations as to what his mission really does entail. Pierce spells it out for him and Brock is conflicted. It's put on the backburner due a mission and the suspicion that Romanova is all too aware of it all.

They stood there, unsure of how to act when the decision was taken away from them by the hostess, who assumed that they knew each other and ushered Captain Rogers and her companion to Brock and Jack’s booth. Jack looked at Brock, asking him silently for a decision. Brock didn’t think about it twice. He gave Jack a slight nod and shuffled over to make room, a move that Jack mirrored. 

Brock ended up across from the Captain, who was slightly flushed at finding herself across the way from him. He could already hear Jack and Sam Wilson (Brock may have been paying attention to who was picking Cap up. And he _may_ have hacked her phone, but he wasn’t going to admit it) talking easily. Already, Jack and Sam were deep in discussion, leaving Brock and Cap to their own devices. 

And thus making his job easier. He gave a silent thanks for Jack’s extroverted nature for making his job easier before he turned towards Cap. He cleared his throat and gave her a small smile. 

A smile that seemed to crack the ice between them, since she lost her blush. It was replaced by a look of longing coming over her face when she saw the plate of tacos in front of Brock. It was endearing, since she wasn’t focused on logistics. Nor was she trying to not notice how close he was to her. Her hunger made her much softer and much more human. And much more open than before.

It had been the reason why he pushed the plate towards her and signaled the waitress over, adding another two orders of tacos to their tab and more drinks. Sam ordered his own, something to rival Jack’s own weird tastes no doubt. At least that was the impression he got after catching the tail end of Jack’s explanation. He didn’t bother listening to the rest, since he was now focused on Cap, who was still sitting there practically salivating over the food. 

“Are you sure? I mean I can always wait…” She trailed off, her good manners fighting with her hunger. He had seen it before and he wasn’t about to let her do it again. 

He had known what it was like to be hungry and he knew how much hunger she had suffered in the Depression. He also knew how much it took to keep her going and how stubborn she was. He’d already lost a couple of their little food skirmishes. He wasn’t going to lose this one. 

And Brock knew that if he pushed, she’d remain sitting there until the orders would come out of the kitchen. So he decided instead to take on a different approach. After all, _he_ was also hungry.

“I’m sure. But if it bothers you so much, we can share this plate and the others that are coming. Deal, Cap?”

Captain Rogers thought about it for a moment before she nodded her agreement, both of them reaching for a taco at the same time and biting into it. All conversation between them was gone as they concentrated on their food. He was glad that he thought of the compromise, or else they would have been at a stalemate and possibly ruined the evening on top of that.

Brock had learned his lesson when she nearly passed out from low blood sugar during a strategy meeting. It had been the reason why he had gotten into the habit of having his food stash doubled in case Cap needed a snack or two. 

Once he had swallowed the bite of the extremely delicious taco, Brock again made a mental note to thank Jack for bringing him to the restaurant. The food was excellent and he was relieved that he had had the foresight to order two more platters. He too, saw the Cap was blissed out as she swallowed her own taco, having practically inhaled it. 

“Thank you. I’m so sorry for poaching your dinner. The meeting ran a bit late.” She apologised, wiping her mouth and hands before reaching for a new taco. 

Brock bit into his taco and shrugged. “It happens. Don’t worry. Considering how good these are, I get why you were making eyes at them, Cap.”

She blushed at that. “I’d rather you called me Steph. We have worked together long enough that we can stop standing on formalities. Especially at dinner.”

Brock swallowed hard at her request. After how many weeks, he had given up hope of ever reaching that level of intimacy with her and here she had given it to him like a present. A present that he wasn’t going to let go to waste, that was for sure. 

She was watching him sharply, waiting for his reaction when he put his half-eaten taco down and grinned at her. 

“Deal. But you have to call me Brock as well. Seems only fair, right?”

She blushed before she smiled back. A soft, warm smile that actually made all thoughts of his mission go out the window as he viscerally reacted to it. He thought he knew her smiles. Ca- _Steph_ had given him a few fleeting ones as they had worked together. But never like this. 

Brock swallowed and picked up his taco, focusing on it rather than on the feelings that she was bringing up in him. 

He was going to have to be careful to not let his personal feelings bleed into his work. Despite knowing that a successful honeypot was lies mixed with truth, he was all too aware that he could lose sight of it easily. Especially with how damned _earnest_ Stephanie Rogers was. 

_“In another life. Another time, I wouldn’t have to weigh options and double-guess myself. But I don’t have that luxury.”_

He felt the ache of having to make that decision to walk away from his feelings and shut them away as he worked the honeypot. It surprised him to have that reaction to her. After all, he’d done this before. Made men and women fall in love with him with ease and left them without a second glance, his heart untouched and his soul unfettered. 

Yet it was different with _her_. 

And he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to walk away unscathed. 

“Brock?” 

Shit. He had been too quiet and too still for too long, lost in his own thoughts and turmoil as he was. Worrying Steph since he ended up forgetting how empathetic she tended to be. 

He shook his head, pretending to come back to himself and smiled at her, putting all the charm that he possessed into the smile to throw her off the scent. 

Her blush deepened and he breathed a sigh of relief when she looked down at the plate. 

“Just wool-gathering. Trying to remember exactly when it was that I had such great tacos.”

He emphasized his false claim by finishing off the taco, just in time for the new platters to arrive and the last taco to be snatched up by Steph. They thanked the server, who giggled at Brock and Jack, before she left with the empty dishes and bottles, giving Brock time to come up with places in case Steph decided to continue the conversation. 

Steph finished the taco and looked at him, raising an eyebrow as she did. 

“Really? Where else would there be better? Sam swears by it and I do too. We come here every Thursday.”

Brock nodded, filing that tidbit away for future meetings. Thursday it would be. He would have to stagger them though. Lest she got suspicious. 

“In Oaxaca. And in Chiapas. Trust me on this. If we ever get missions in Mexico, remind me to take you to some of the places I know.”

Steph’s eyes brightened at the idea, making Brock’s chest hurt just a slight bit as he clicked as to how the shade matched the blue of the Mexican beaches he had been on. God what was she doing to him? 

“I’d like that. Hopefully not soon. Even if it has been too quiet lately…”

She trailed off, her focus inward for a few moments before she shrugged it off and picked up one of the green glass bottles on the table and frowned at it, making Brock laugh. 

“Drink it. Trust me on this.”

She did, and exclaimed at the test, her distraction forgotten. 

But not by Brock. 

And it was something that Pierce would have to be notified of. Just in case.

~*~*~*~*~

Despite the usual trepidation Brock felt at being summoned to headquarters, he was glad to get this over and done with first thing in the morning. 

The memory of a happy Steph and the knowledge that he was much nearer to his objective was enough to keep his skin from crawling. He was on time and he was doing what was ordered. Pierce had no way to hold anything over his head. 

Pierce, much to Brock’s relief when he was called into his office, was pleased with the progress. He kept his relief to himself as he stood at ease and watched Pierce smile.

“It’s slower than we would have hoped for, but it is something. You’re still on track as per the plan. Just make sure that she’s calling you “sweetheart” and flipping her skirt up for you in the next month or so. We need as much leverage as we can get on her as possible.”

Brock frowned at that. “What kind of leverage exactly? Surely she wouldn’t kneel for anyone to save me. She’s proven that she wouldn’t even when Carter asked for her to not sink the Valkyrie in the Arctic. And if she has a child, I doubt she would do that for them. She’d run with it rather than submit.”

Pierce remained quiet for a moment before shaking his head at Brock’s words. 

“It’s true she’d be hard to convince to kneel. But every mother _will_ place her child’s well being above her own. If we can offer her help for a child that might have all of her ailments, she might change her mind.”

Brock’s eyebrows raised at that. “But she’s got the serum. Surely she’s fine now and wouldn’t have children with her issues. Didn’t it fix everything?”

Pierce shrugged and gestured to the files on his desk and computer.

“Considering that no one has been able to replicate the serum and Rogers herself hasn’t put the theory to the test, it’s a reasonable assumption to make. We have technology that not even SHIELD or Stark Industries have touched as of yet. It’s a simple decision to make and one she _will_ make once it’s presented as such.”

Brock had to admit that despite the coldness of it, the tactic was perfect. Desperate mothers would do all that they could. Now all they had to do was put that theory to the test. 

“You know what your duty is, Rumlow. Let’s hope you can manage it. Dismissed.”

Brock left the office, his mind still reeling at being ordered to ensnare Steph Rogers by the most underhanded ways possible. 

He shook his head as he walked back to his office, sending a quiet prayer of forgiveness to the powers that be that were still listening to him and pasted a smile onto his face when Steph met him halfway to the office. 

“We got a mission.”

Brock nodded, shoving everything away into the back of his mind. 

“Good. When do we leave?”

“In twenty. Get your gear and meet us at the helipad.” Steph replied, bumping his shoulder in a friendly gesture as she went to do the same, leaving Brock standing in the hallway.

And leaving him face to face with Romanova, who stared at him for a few moments, as if weighing him before leaving to follow after Steph.

Brock watched her go, swallowing hard.

Romanova was someone he’d need to keep an eye out for, or else HYDRA wouldn’t even get close to finishing him off. 

He sighed as he went to get his gear ready and half-heartedly hoped that maybe this mission was going to be his last.

~*~*~*~*~

Stevie knew that Nat had picked up something when she found Nat standing behind her in the tiny dingy bathroom of their rundown room in the easternmost part of Brazil. 

Despite the A/C, the air was still heavy and humid and it made Stevie wish for a mission somewhere in Russia or the Arctic. Already, she needed to re-braid her hair and pin it in a coronet around her head to keep it off her neck and out of her face when the action happened. 

Right now, they had just enough time to get ready and review all of the intel and outcomes of their mission. A pretty straightforward one that consisted of breaking up an illegal mining outfit and a terrorist cell waging a war and keeping the locals in the middle of it all. As soon as Rollins and Rumlow returned, they would be on it. 

Stevie had taken advantage of the lull and was just about done when Nat appeared. 

She put the last pin in place and turned around to face Nat, who despite appearances, looked like she wanted to talk. 

“Something on your mind, Nat?”

Nat snorted. “So you and Rumlow? Something going on there I should know about?”

Stevie crossed her arms. “Yes. Maybe? And if there was, does it matter?”

Nat shrugged. “Nothing, really. I’m a bit surprised, to be honest. That you’d actually take interest in him. After all, you were committed to not dating the last time we talked.”

Stevie smiled thinly. “Me too, if I’m honest. I didn’t expect for us to get close, but it happened and I don’t mind. He’s not Bucky. They’re very different, but I like that.”

Nat nodded to herself. “Alright. As long as you’re happy. But if he breaks your heart, I can definitely make sure they never find the body.”

Stevie was quiet for a few moments before she sighed deeply. “Thank you. As morbid as that offer sounds, I appreciate it and hope to not accept it.”

Natasha nodded, whatever else she was going to say interrupted by the buzz of her comm being online. 

“We’re on. But this conversation isn’t over, Stevie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brock-He's not as heartless or sadistic here and the extra duties that he's being presented with are starting to make him rethink a lot of things. He doesn't have the time or the luxury to weigh them though. Things are moving fast. And he is afraid of Natasha. He's not that dense.  
> Rollings- For some reason, he's turned into that friendly guy. Yes, he's friends with everyone.  
> Natasha-She's concerned. She woudn't be a spy if she wasn't suspicious of everyone.  
> Stevie-The next chapter will focus on her and how things will speed up between herself and Brock. And the possible shadow deals in the back.  
> Pierce-I was more or less thinking about what HYDRA would use to hold over Stevie's head and this felt like something that they would so keep on the table. 
> 
> Thank you all who comment and read. Greatly appreciated!!


	5. All I think of lately, is how to get you underneath me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mission time and Steph is caught by surprise over something Brock does, which pushes her to take action in regards to the feelings she is harbouring. Brock is suprised, yet pleased when Steph shows up to his room with a proposition. Natasha watches, biding her time to address her suspicions.

Stevie slapped her sweaty neck, flicking the mosquito away with a small moue of distaste. She would have made a noise but she knew the importance of being silent despite all of the noises of the jungle as they waited for the signal to attack. She sighed and wiped her sticky face again and again. Even in the summer, Brooklyn never got this hot and she hated every minute of it. 

Give her the icy forests any day. Give her Azzano, any day. The dirt and the cold of Europe was preferable to _this._

 _“Having fun yet, Cap?”_ Brock asked, his voice tinny in her ear piece, making Natasha look at her from her ten o’clock position. Brock was on her two and the plan was once they saw the scouts, they would attack. The rest of the team was scattered about, Rollins playing sniper and the rest of the team covering them in case things got shot straight to hell. 

Stevie privately felt it was overkill, yet she remained quiet, crouched in her position, being eaten alive by mosquitoes as they waited. It was similar to being in the war, yet she hated it. She’d rather be coming in hot and ready to end the situation. 

She sighed and shook her head, mouthing out _“Later.”_ to Natasha, who only raised an eyebrow, cool as ever despite the oppressive heat. 

“ _Loads. Can’t you tell?”_ She murmured, her eyes scanning the thick green foliage in search of their targets. She was sure she saw flashes to her six o’clock. She held her breath and waited to see if she was on the money. 

_“Did you catch anything?”_ Natasha asked, catching her sudden change. 

Stevie raised her hand, signalling her to wait. 

Nat held still, letting Stevie listen. She watched as Stevie turned and gestured to her six o’clock. Nat and Brock nodded. 

Stevie bit her lip and held three fingers up. She could hear them coming. Closer. Closer…

She lowered a finger. Waited. The voices got closer. She lowered another. Closer. 

Once the voices were close enough for her to make out their broken Portuguese, she lowered the last finger and made a fist. She gestured to her six o’clock as she leapt out of her hiding spot, her sticks in her hands and ready to be used.

_“GO! GO!”_

The action was immediate. Both Brock and Natasha burst out of their hiding spots, joining her in beating down the cell and the miners. 

Or what should have been miners. They were clearly transplants, the smatterings of Portuguese giving way to a cacophony of different languages as they snarled and fought their way through the combined onslaught of Brock, Stevie, and Nat. 

Stevie had no time to waste making sure that everyone was doing what they were supposed to. She just trusted them to do it. They had a limited amount of time before the government got wind of what they were doing. That would be a diplomatic headache no one needed. And she was determined for this mission to be as successful as the others. 

She stifled a groan when it seemed like she was getting a bigger wave of attackers than Brock and Nat did. Even with Rollins and the others helping, she was the one needing to weed out the grunts.

Grunts who clearly thought that she was easy pickings. Without the shield and the uniform, she looked like some little girl playing at being a mercenary. Despite knocking five unprepared stragglers down and into the bushes, she was seen as the weak link. She could see this quite clearly on the newest foe’s face as he engaged her, knives in hand and a smirk on his sunburnt and bearded face as he threw a knife at her. 

She batted it away with her sticks, rushing him, barely dodging the second knife that whizzed harmlessly past her. But not the collapsible baton that came out of nowhere and got her smack in the forearm. 

She yelped as the vibrations went up her arm, numbing it for a second and making her drop one of the sticks. The other she swung widely, hitting her opponent in the neck, dropping him unconscious onto the jungle floor. She ignored him and the cries around her as she went to pick up her stick, shaking off the residual numbness before joining the fray. 

Not even a moment later, another man shot at her, several of the shots clipping her shoulder and ear. She shook her head, dispelling the noise. Once her hearing was clear, she kicked out, making him back again and shoot. 

Or tried to. He keeled over, revealing what looked like a mercenary behind him, already lurching towards her, making her go on the defensive as he swung a machete at her. 

Stevie stopped the attack with her sticks, kicking him in the chest with all her strength and smacking him against several other men, who were knocked down and quickly neutralised by Nat.

Stevie heard Brock swearing followed by a grunt. She turned to see what was going on. Was anyone hurt? Yet all she saw was him standing over a body with a bloody knife in his hand. The body was close. Too close to her. She didn’t miss that if Brock hadn’t acted quickly, the now dead man would have attacked her.

She looked at his face when he was wiping the blade, but she said nothing to him. She smiled faintly at him, a small flush of gratitude flaring in his chest that he had been watching out for her. Even if she was more or less invincible, and Brock human...She appreciated the gesture. It had been far too long since anyone had her well being as their priority.

Brock must have realised it, yet his face was utterly devoid of expression as he did. His eyes looked like black pits in his face and Stevie swallowed hard. It was unnerving to see him like that, but she didn’t show it. She only gave him a nod that he reciprocated. 

She didn’t have time to do anything else since Rollins’ voice came over her ear piece.

“ _That’s it, Captain Rogers. I don’t see anyone else here.”_

“Okay. Start cleaning up then. I think we’re done. Rollins, keep an eye out for any stragglers.”

_“Understood.”_

Stevie walked away from the mess in front of her and towards their vehicles, the adrenaline leaving her only wanting a drink and to clean up. 

And to watch Brock a little closer, the earlier sight of him stirring up more or that desire she had managed to somewhat bank and put away in their encounters. 

But it wouldn’t subsume and she suddenly was painfully aware of the heat not just around her, but _inside_ of her. 

Groaning, she put her sticks back in her belt and moved to get wet wipes out and clean up. She could at least take care of _that_. The rest...Maybe tonight if she was lucky. She blushed at the thought and fumbled with her utility belt to get the wipes out. 

She paused when she saw a flash of black and she looked up. 

Just in time to see Brock drinking from his canteen. 

And her mind went blank at the sight.

~*~*~*~*~

Brock took a long drink of his canteen, wincing a bit at the metallic taste, but drinking it anyway. His shirt stuck to his body, the sweat pooled in the small of his back and he needed all the fluids he could get. Once he was done, he screwed the cap back on and turned to finally look at Steph, who had been covertly watching him ever since they had cleared out the compound and arrested the cell and the miners. 

He had been sharply aware of her and her eyes on him, but had pushed it aside and done his job. Even though he was sure that in the long run they weren’t going to make much of a difference in the situation by arresting the small cell and crooks, he was going to do the job right. Not only his life, but his cover depended on it. If it had been up to him, he would have simply executed them and left the bodies for the animals to dispose of. 

But Steph was there, watching and he wasn’t going to do that. Even though it would have saved him a lot of headaches and paperwork. 

His comm crackled to life and he pressed his hand to his ear. 

“Go.”

_“Got secondary orders. Clear the field along with the Captain. Romanova and the rest will tie up the loose ends here.”_

Rollins’ voice rumbled into his ear and Brock had to wonder if Fury or Pierce was the one that gave the order. With Romanova staying put, he was thinking Fury and that they needed her to extract intel. Just like she had done on the Lemurian Star. 

_“Got it. Meet at the hotel when you’re done. We’re clearing in seven hours.”_ He replied, cutting the connection once he heard Rollins’ agreement. He gave Romanova a nod, which she coolly returned, and moved towards Steph, who was wiping her face and neck clean with a wet cloth. 

He had to pause to get a hold of himself as he tried to not outright ogle Steph. Even though it was damned hard to. As it was, he could barely keep his eyes from trailing the cloth as it moved down her neck and into the top of her chest and-

He managed to tear his eyes away then and instead focused on her face. Already, it was shiny with damp sweat, the tropical heat unrelenting on her. Tendrils of her golden brown hair stuck to her cheeks and she was wiping away the sweat that pooled on her upper lip. 

It was that gesture that made a jolt of desire shoot down into his gut. Hot and fast, leaving him choking in the humid air around them. He got a hold of himself and pushed that sudden want down. But it was hard. Especially with the undecipherable look in her sky blue eyes.

The shifting of the rest of the cell and Romanova calling out instructions snapped him out of that inappropriate set of mind. 

For her part, Steph finished cleaning up and stuffed the cloth into her utility belt and stood there, waiting for him to share the next orders. 

“Anything new?” She asked thickly, fanning herself to no real avail. 

Brock smiled. “Romanova, Rollins, and the rest of the team will deal with the rest of the clean up. We get to go ahead and clear the path for extraction. We’re going out in seven hours.”

Steph frowned at that. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for us to stay and help? I mean we could get this sorted quickly with you and I here.”

Brock shrugged. “Yeah, well Rollins and Romanova are better at the clean up than we are. We do the breaking in, they do the rest.”

Brock reasoned, all the while hoping that she’d take the bait. It was certainly true that Steph and Brock were the hammers. Their job was more or less over and he could see her working through the logic of them leaving. She was torn between staying and helping due to her principles and finally being able to get a clean. It wasn’t until Rollins whistled and their transport started that she finally sighed and gave in. 

“Fine. Let’s go. No sense in broiling here.” She grumbled, making Brock silently thank Rollins for his intervention and add another bottle of whiskey to his growing tab. 

“You got that right. Shall we?” Brock replied, getting into the jeep and pulling her in. 

Steph nodded, getting in and bumping her legs against him and making the desire shoot into the pit of his belly again. He held back a groan and hoped that he would be able to survive the ride back. 

~*~*~*~*~

Brock had just gotten out of the shower, groaning in relief at being clean again when someone knocked at his door. He only had time to wrap a towel around his hips and grab his gun before he slunk towards the door, keeping his back to the walls as he moved.

He didn’t think anyone was stupid enough to get the drop on him, but he hadn’t survived that long without being cautious. He didn’t call out and instead moved in a zigzag pattern in case bullets started to fly. He got to the door, reached out to unlock it and froze when the person on the other side spoke up.

“Rumlow. It’s Steph.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head as he opened the door to Steph, who was scrubbed up and wearing a clean tank and tactical trousers. And flip flops, incongruously enough. He shook his head again, stepping aside to let her in. 

She turned to close and lock the door, giving him enough time to gather himself and ignore the fact that he was only in a towel. He cleared his throat when she turned around, grinning a bit at the sight of her. He could tell she was trying to be calm, but the tightness of her shoulders and almost bloodless mouth said otherwise. 

She had come to a decision before she arrived and Brock found himself on edge as he waited to find out what it was. He could guess, from the looks she had been giving him after the mission was finished. He was sure that she was infatuated and ready to make a move. 

If she had been another one of his marks, he would have already been in her space, toying with her and getting closer. Giving her bedroom eyes and pulling her into his arms for a kiss. Whispering promises he didn’t ever intend to keep as he led her to his bed. Touching her just enough to make her chase his touch. Everything that he had learned to do in his career.

He should have, but he couldn’t. He knew if he pushed, she could shut down and never let him in. All of his work would be lost and he wasn’t about to let that happen. So he forced himself to be patient and let her talk. 

“I normally wouldn’t burst in like this, but I couldn’t leave it for later. In fact, I don’t think there would be a later if we didn’t speak right now.” 

Brock nodded as he clicked the safety back on and put his gun down in his nearly packed duffle. He normally wouldn’t, but he figured if they were attacked, him and Steph would destroy anyone in just hand to hand combat.

It was quicker than he was expecting, but it didn’t matter. Even if they were interrupted, the start was there. He was in. 

“Why don’t you think there would be a later?” Brock asked casually, despite his heart beating fast enough for her to actually hear it.

Steph stepped forward, making Brock blink down at her. He registered the faint scent of jasmine on her skin, the pink skin of cheeks, right before she spoke. Giving him the smallest bit of warning before it happened. 

“Because it took a lot of nerve for me to actually convince myself to come here and do this.” 

In one quick motion, she had wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. A passionate, rough kiss that was both a claim and a question. One that Brock was only too happy to reciprocate.

He put his hands on her waist, yanking her closer as he tilted her his head to deepen the kiss. He gently ran his tongue across her bottom lip, seeking entrance as he pressed his body against hers. She gasped a bit, giving him exactly what he wanted. He explored every bit of her, tasting her while she did the same to him. Tentatively at first, then bolder as the kiss went on, only ending when she broke it off. 

“Wow.” She whispered to herself, making Brock smile as he slid his hands down lower, resting his hands on her hips. As much as he wanted to move things along, he had to follow her lead. 

“Never been kissed like that before?” He whispered, his thumbs brushing the waistband of her trousers. 

Steph shook her head. “Not since the war. And never like _that._ ” 

Brock kissed her again. This time a gentle, short kiss before he let go of her hips and took her hand instead. 

She looked down, then up and Brock nearly groaned in both anticipation and resignation. Of course she was a virgin. Should have known by how long it took to get to this point. No wonder why she had been so tense and nervous to even come to his door. She had done it though and he was going to show her that her efforts hadn’t been in vain. 

“We could do more.” He whispered, rubbing the inside of her wrist with his thumb in slow, gentle circles. The skin was soft and delicate under his thumb, and getting warmer as they stood there as he waited for her answer. The fans in the room were the only noise in the room before she spoke. 

“I’d like that.” She replied, looking up at him steadily. 

Brock smiled, leading her towards the partitioned off section that served as a bedroom. The bed was clean, made up while they were out with the covers drawn down. The rest of the room was almost clinically clean, making Brock wince at the bareness of it. No help for it, he’d make it up to her eventually. 

He could see she was starting to get nervous, so he moved to distract her by pulling her against him. He kissed her slowly, taking his time with her while his hands skimmed over her sides. He slid his hands up the tank, pulling it upwards. They broke the kiss briefly as her top slid over her head. He tossed it away, smiling as he noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra. 

She was blushing and it went down to her chest, prompting him to kiss a line down from her jaw to her neck and down to her breasts. He cupped them in his hands, making her inhale sharply at his touch. When he kissed the first one and then the other, she couldn’t hold back her gasp. 

He continued kissing and nuzzling her breasts until she pulled his head away, her blunt nails digging into his scalp as she did. He took the hint and moved upwards, kissing her swollen mouth again before he pushed her down onto the bed. 

It took a bit of fumbling and awkward maneuvering to get naked. Brock ended up getting kicked in the thigh as Steph kicked off her clothing while Brock unwrapped the towel. It left them with Brock kneeling in between Steph’s legs while she took him in. Her eyes drinking in the golden expanse of his muscled and scarred body as they scanned him from head to toe. 

Brock watched as her eyes moved up and down his body, her eyes widening as they landed on his erect cock and he couldn’t help but to preen a little as Steph’s lips parted and she reached out to trace the lines of his body before she pulled him towards her. He lay on top of her, careful to balance most of his weight on his hands, which were on either side of her head. 

“Are you sure?”

He could have cringed at how cliched he sounded, but he had to be truly sure it was what she wanted. The last thing he needed was for her to feel pressured or to get embarrassed and chalk it up to a mistake. He would stop if she asked. Brock Rumlow was many things, but being a rapist wasn’t one of them.

“I am.” 

It was all the permission he needed to kiss her and slip his hand in between their bodies while she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, encouraging him on. He wasn’t going to rush it. He stroked her, testing her, making sure she was ready. He continued, kissing her all over, sucking marks on her neck and nibbling on her ears until he could feel her wetness. 

He didn’t warn her, only positioned himself to push inside. She moaned, as he moved inch by agonizing inch, stopping whenever she cried out or squirmed under him. Once he was inside her, he lay still, holding the desire to move back. 

He waited until she nudged him and he moved, not able to hold back the groan of pleasure as he moved into her as if moving through water. He moved slow at first, letting her dictate the pace until she was breathing hard and heavy in his ear, his hips snapping back and forth as he set a hard pace, their bodies sliding and slipping against each other as sweat slicked them. Steph’s moans and sighs in his ears and her nails raking down his back, spurring him on. 

Brock obeyed her, moving faster and deeper, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he got closer and and closer to coming. Her moans and her crying out of his name as she clenched around him was the tipping point and he came so hard he only saw white for a few moments before collapsing on her. 

He lay in her embrace for a few moments, enjoying the stillness and moment of peace between them before the world had to intrude again. He was relaxed and boneless in her arms and he would have stayed there if he hadn’t recalled that despite the serum, Steph wouldn’t appreciate being crushed under his weight. 

Brock moved away carefully, then made his way back to the bathroom to get a wet washcloth. He came back to find Steph watching him, curious at what he was doing. He kissed her, then cleaned her up gently. Serum or not, it didn’t mean he couldn’t take care of her. 

He cleaned up in the bathroom and returned, to see Steph checking her phone. 

“We have time. Plenty of it.” He reassured as he got back into bed and pulled her into his arms so that her head lay on his chest and he could play with the loose tendrils of her hair. 

“We could do it again?” Steph murmured, tracing a line from his chest down to his groin.

“We could...In a different way.” Brock told her, letting her go and pushing her down on her back again. 

She watched him, clearly confused, as he moved between her legs again and slid down. He grinned up at her, his head bracketed by her thighs as he did. 

Steph’s face went red as she put the pieces together, but before she could react, Brock lowered his head and-

“What are you-Ooohh.”

~*~*~*~*~*

Natasha raised an eyebrow when they sat down in the transport, but said nothing. She didn’t want to rain on Steph’s parade. Not when she still had the glow of the well fucked around her. Not when she actually seemed relaxed and happy for the first time in what seemed years. 

Despite her pragmatism, she couldn’t do that to Steph. 

Besides, she wasn’t even sure if Fury was right. Suspicions were just that. There was no proof as of yet. 

So she only glared at Brock to watch him blanch and smiled at Steph as they headed back to DC. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steph-She is used to taking care of herself on the field and yes, Brock taking action does influence the decision to sleep with him. She will explain herself further in the next chapter, since Natasha wants to know why Brock is the one.  
> Brock-He's pleased that the plan is working, but he's also aware he's not quite as removed from his emotions as he thought earlier.  
> And this will be when things go fast and loose with the timeline and the movie. And the Winter Soldier is coming soon.  
> And yes, this is a big chunk of a chapter, because I will be AWOL for awhile due to making tamales, family gatherings, and babysitting. So enjoy and again, thank you all that are reading!


	6. Can you hear my heart beating like a hammer?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fury and Natasha trade notes on the undercurrents of the mission, SHIELD, and the new developments between Rumlow and Stevie. Natasha and Stevie talk and get some things out in the open. Brock finds himself in two minds over the fact that he's been succesful in his mission.  
> Pierce calls in some help.

Fury folded his hands over his desk, his coffee cup untouched as he waited for Romanova to come in and give her report. He glanced at the clock on the wall at the same time that she walked through the door and closed it behind it with unhurried movements. 

She took the chair across from him, sat down in one graceful motion, crossing her legs and folding her hands on her lap. She sat for a few moments before she looked at Fury. 

“What did Brazil reveal?” Fury asked, prompting Natasha to rummage through her jacket and slide a memory stick across the desk to Fury. Her eyes flickered towards the corners of the office, prompting him to slide the memory stick into his pocket to look at later.

“The cell and the illegal mining has been neutralised. As per orders.” Natasha replied, putting emphasis on the last phrase, making Fury raise an eyebrow at that. It was supposed to be a simple intelligence and arrest mission. Not a wetworks op. 

He was going to need some answers from Pierce as to why that was the case. And why he had to involve Rogers in it.

“No complications with the team?”

Romanova shook her head and gave him the barest ghost of a smile as she sat back in her chair, calm and collected as she waited for his next question. 

“Anything else?”

Natasha pressed her lips together to buy some time to frame her reply. Fury raised an eyebrow at the stalling, wondering if he was going to hate it as much as what he had found from the Lemurian Star raid. 

“Rogers and Rumlow are involved.” 

Fury nodded. 

“Noted. Is there any cause for concern at the time?” 

Fury asked, making it a mental note to keep a closer eye out on Rogers all the same. 

Natasha pressed her lips shut as she weighed the dangers that Rumlow may or may not present to Stevie as of then.

“I trust your judgement, Romanova. You do what you must.”

Natasha smiled, then stood up. 

“I will. If that is all?”

Fury nodded. “It is. Dismissed, Romanova.”

Natasha gave him a sharp nod, then exited the room, leaving Fury to ponder the new complication that had just appeared. 

~*~*~*~*

Steph groaned a little at the sight of Natasha walking towards her with two large cups of iced tea in her hands as well as a bag of favourite gourmet cookies. She could already smell the melted chocolate and mocha and she was nearly drooling. And she had to admit that as much as she appreciated the gesture, she was fully aware that it was a bribe.

Not that Natasha didn’t know anything nice for her. Far from it. They picked up drinks and coffee for each other frequently. But with the looks Natasha had been giving her the past two weeks, Stevie knew that her grace period was up and she was going to have to spill. 

Bracing herself for what was to come, she pushed her laptop to the side and made room for the drinks and the cookies. Natasha grinned as she handed over one drink and then plunked herself down on the other chair. 

“You know what’s coming then, Stevie. So out with it. Why Rumlow?”

Stevie grabbed her drink, shaking her head at Natasha’s blunt delivery. 

“No preamble? Come on. Aren’t you supposed to be a master at this, Nat?”

Nat gave her a half-hearted smile as she watched Stevie take a sip of the peach iced tea that she loved for some reason that Natasha couldn’t understand. She preferred black tea herself, and looked at Stevie’s preferences with tolerant amusement and a way to get in Stevie’s good graces if necessary.

“We had the preamble in Brazil, Stevie. Why would I retread the same old ground?”

Stevie sighed, nodding her head. “You got me there. Were we being that obvious?”

Natasha shook her head and took a sip of her own tea. “Not to the others. But then I knew what to look for.” 

Stevie blushed to the roots of her hair and nearly choked on her straw at Natasha’s nonchalant comment about her appearance after a few hours alone with Brock.

“Relax, Stevie. I’m not going to judge you over your personal life. Especially since it’s nice to see you having a life outside of this.” Natasha pointed out, gesturing to the office they were sitting in and making Stevie’s face get so hot that she was sure it was glowing. 

“I’m just surprised at your choice. I had a bet with Hill that you were going to go with the VA guy. You just cost me fifty bucks.” 

Despite her breezy tone, Stevie couldn’t help glancing at her friend and co-worker a sharp glare.

“Right. Cut the crap Natasha. You’ve been keeping tabs on me and Sam. The least you can do is say his name. And Brock is just...Brock. I can trust him to watch my back and actually go toe to toe with me. And fight beside me.” 

The last was said in a quieter tone and Natasha, to her credit, didn’t react to the statement. She had known that had been part of the charm by how Stevie had been staring after Brock when he had dispatched the last insurgent. She got that despite being part of the Avengers, most of the time they left her to her own devices, trusting that the serum would be enough to get through whatever impossible task she was facing at the time. 

Apart from Thor, no one was her equal. Rumlow wasn’t close, but the fact that he took the initiative would have appealed to Stevie. Just like having someone on her six again would have been far too tempting to resist. Natasha knew that. She had suspected that had been part of the appeal other than his looks and his mind after she had gone to the Smithsonian herself to look at the exhibit on the Star Spangled Gal. 

She had read the files on Stevie before they had met. Before New York and she thought she had gotten a decent reading on her. To the point that she counted Stevie a friend even if they weren’t having gossip filled lunches. Yet she hadn’t seen how much she missed Barnes until she had seen how carefree and light Stevie looked in those old film reels. And how much she loved him.

It wasn’t obvious to the casual passerby, but Natasha was trained to spot those tells. And she hadn’t seen them until they had gotten on the helicopter to get back to the States. And had continued to see it whenever Stevie would look at Rumlow and vice versa. 

“I get that. It’s been a long time since you had that. I have to ask, Stephanie. Are you happy?”

Stevie put her cup down before giving Natasha a small smile. “Is it bad to say that I am?”

Natasha smiled gently. She may not have thought that happiness was achievable for people like her, but for Stevie...It could have been possible. And she hoped that Rumlow would have been it. Stevie needed something more than SHIELD and being an Avenger. She had given so much, it was time she _lived_ rather than just served.

But if Rumlow wasn’t it, Natasha wasn’t above gutting him and hiding the body, SHIELD record be damned. 

“Natasha, as much as I appreciate what you’re thinking of doing, don’t terrorize Brock. Well, at least not more. He’s already terrified of you.” Stevie explained, smirking a bit as she spoke.

“Well, not that he won’t admit it, but it’s obvious once you know what to look for.”

It pleased Natasha to know that and her smile got wider. “Well, if he behaves, he won’t have anything to worry about.”

Stevie laughed quietly as she reached over to the paper bag and opened it, letting the scent of amaretto and mocha waft out into her office. She took a cookie and pushed the bag towards Natasha. 

“I’ll be sure to pass the word along if he shows any signs of stepping out of line.” Stevie replied, taking a bite of the cookie right after. 

Natasha grinned and grabbed her own cookie. “I appreciate it. So how’s Wilson doing now?”

~*~*~*~*~

The soft buzzing of the alarm broke the dark dawn, waking them up with a start and a few quiet groans as they both reached out to quiet the source of the noise. After a few moments of fumbling, Brock was the one to reach it first and bring it into the bed. He swiped his thumb across the screen and the phone was blessedly quiet. 

He checked the time before he let his head drop back onto the pillow. He sighed heavily, rubbing his face roughly to wake up before he turned to look at Steph. He was expecting her to have woken up again and smiling softly at him as she always did in the morning and was shocked when he found her deeply asleep again. 

He reached out for her, intending to stroke her face to wake her up when he took a good look at her. She looked tired and pale, dark smudges under her eyes completing the picture. Brock frowned at the sight, letting his hand drop while he kept studying her closely, noting the marks that he had missed before. The little marks of ill health and fragility that she should have been immune to, unlike him and the others. 

Yet there they were there, showing a vulnerability that he wouldn’t have ever associated with her. And it worried him. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, seeing Steph Rogers tired and delicate made an overprotectiveness rise up in him. 

Something that gave him pause as he lay there, watching her sleep. It was on the edge of his mind, but he couldn’t quite grasp what it was and it was frustrating him enough to start working at the puzzle he knew he needed to solve. The clues were all there. He just needed to put it all together and take the next step once he did. 

Steph stirred in her sleep, breaking his train of thought as she did. Her breasts moved under her shirt, drawing his attention to them. Had they always been...He reached out a tentative hand and brushed one, making Steph jerk back and make a soft noise of pain. Her brows furrowed and for a moment he thought she was going to wake up. But she stayed asleep, her breathing deep and regular. 

Brock swore mentally before unlocking his phone and going straight to the calendar app in order to do the math. He looked at the month that they had gone to Brazil and the current day.

Or what he thought was the current day. He had gotten a concussion when they had been in Riga and lost a couple of days give or take. But even with that loss-

The numbers didn’t lie. 

He had completed his mission and the only thing he felt was a sense of hollowness and despair. 

“Well shit.” He muttered, this time waking Steph up, who only had time to look over before she vaulted over him and into the bathroom. 

Sure enough, a few moments later, the sound of violent retching could be heard and Brock sent a request to meet the Director.

~*~*~*~*~

Pierce looked through all of the files, his expression the same neutral one as he saw the moves that Fury had made since the Lemurian Star and Brazil missions. Despite the deceptive quiet, time was running out. And Pierce hated it when time ran out. 

The one good thing was that Rumlow had managed to compromise Captain Rogers. They only needed to wait six more months to reap their rewards. In the meantime, they had to make it all run smoothly, something that was proving difficult with Fury’s poking about. 

And it wasn’t as if he could Rumlow on the case. Not when they needed to keep the good Captain calm and clueless. The last thing they needed was for her to be involved and destroy years upon years of work. Or worse, lose the only way to make more of the serum after so many failures. No. Rumlow couldn’t be spared and his team wouldn’t be able to handle it. They were good, but he knew exactly _how_ good Fury was. 

He pushed all the reports offline and went to the lowest level of the Triskelion, nodding to several doctors and guards as he made his way to the last room of the dingy and dimly lit concrete hall. The sodium lights made everything look sickly and dim, something he ignored as he moved onto his destination. 

He paused only to key in his safety code and wait for the door to open with a hiss and a groan, letting him into the chamber that held the Asset. 

“Is he online?” He asked one of the doctors that was moving around and checking on the Asset’s vitals, while he stood there in his black tactical gear, not a flicker of recognition crossing his eyes. The rest of his face was hidden behind a mask and lank hair. 

“He is. He is waiting to be briefed. His support team is on standby.” The doctor, a nondescript mouse of a girl replied. 

“Good.” Pierce replied, turning away from her to focus on the Asset, who was watching him patiently, waiting for his mission parameters. 

Another assistant handed Pierce a tablet, which he brought over to the Asset. 

“He needs to be neutralised. He’s putting our mission in jeopardy. You will be taken to your team shortly. Do you understand?”

Pierce asked as he opened the file to reveal the target and the plan parameters. The Asset studied it, committing it all to memory before giving Pierce a sharp nod. 

_“Understood. Ready to comply.”_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fury and Natasha- As I have said before, they're compiling what doesn't add up from the missions and from Pierce and the timeline here is stretched out due to what Pierce is planning for Steph. So it is a very AU situation here.  
> Pierce-He wants his objectives met. A pragmatist, he is simply using the tools that need to be used in order to make that happen.  
> Brock-He's not a really good guy at all, but it's starting to hit him exactly how deep he's in. It's also starting to put him on the path of questioning his values and if he's really doing the good thing. I'm taking this approach from an interview with Frank Grillo and his comments on the matter.  
> Stevie and Natasha-They're friends on a different level and despite the movies squandering the opportunity to have them be friends, I think these two are that.  
> The Asset-He's here! And going to make everything even harder than it should be!  
> Happy New Year's and thank you again to all that read, give kudos, and comment! Cheers!


	7. Take the run and hide away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie is irritated at being pushed to the side and other complications, namely one of them being Brock telling her that the impossible is happening to her. And then the assassin showed up...  
> It's not one of her best days.

Stevie sat at her desk, her eyes scanning the never ending reports that Pierce had shoved upon her and Brock. Actually, it had been shoved onto her specifically. 

She had been pretty indignant at how Pierce had given her the harddrive and taken Brock aside, a clear dismissal if there was any. A dismissal that had taken a couple of coffee and bathroom runs to finally get over. She was no stranger to this kind of behaviour, and usually could have brushed it off, but this time, it cut deeper than before. 

Enough so that she made it a point to get to the bathroom before she did anything or talked to anyone. Slipping quickly into an empty stall, she sat there for at least ten minutes in order to get a grip on her emotions. She was slightly concerned at how much the morning’s events affected her. She needed to get her control back or else she wasn’t going to be of any use at all. 

“Get a grip Rogers. You’re here to do a job.” She reminded herself, exiting the stall and splashing her face with water and redoing her make-up. 

That had been several hours ago and she was still cataloguing and adding addendums to the files that she had been put in charge of. Something to do with a mission in the Kashmir region. 

The details were so fiddly that Stevie was completely sucked into the necessity and had been busy annotating and sending off messages to the supplies team, the support team, and Jack Rollins. Brock had been offline for the whole morning, no doubt still with Pierce, so she didn’t bother to send him anything. Besides, Rollins was the SIC so she was sure that he would do his best to get it all to Brock.

At least that was taken care of and she could take a break. Picking up a cup, she groaned when she tilted it to her lips and found it empty. Tossing it and the other two into the bin by her desk, she stood up and stretched, wincing when the waistband of her skirt seemed to cut into her waist. 

“Are you kidding me?” Stevie muttered, adjusting it and feeling it was still uncomfortable and tight. “I swear I _just_ bought this! How can it be too tight?”

She was still fiddling with her skirt when Fury appeared at her door, his expression bland and remote as always. 

“Rogers. Could I trouble you for awhile? Unless you’re busy?”

Despite it being phrased politely, Stevie could hear the command in the words. She bit her lip before reaching over for her bag. 

“Let me get a coffee first then I’m all yours.”

She could have smacked herself for the vaguely suggestive wording, but she really _did_ need a coffee. Especially if she was going to spend more than ten minutes in Fury’s presence. 

Fury didn’t do casual chit chat. He was there for a reason and Stevie doubted that it was for anything good. 

Fury shrugged. “We can do that.”

Stevie slung her bag onto her shoulder. “Lead the way.”

~*~*~*~*~

Brock knocked on the door of Stevie’s office, the plastic bag sticky and damp from him clutching it too tightly. His heart felt as if it was going to beat right out of his chest as he stood there, waiting for Steph to open the door. He could have gone in, but he didn’t think it was a wise move with how Pierce had outright dismissed her in the morning. 

He wasn’t going to antagonise her without good reason. Even though he privately agreed with Pierce at keeping Steph behind. Despite her near invincibility, Pierce didn’t want to take any chances with their meal ticket. They had worked too hard and were too close to risk it. 

Brock himself didn’t want to risk her and _his_ child in the field. He was all too aware that he was being a tad too over-protective over her. Yet his instincts insisted that he watch over her and the baby. Even though Steph had been doing dangerous missions even before he himself had been thought of, he still felt the need to watch her back. 

He would explain all of this one he finally got to talk to her. And after he would convince her to use the item in the plastic bag. That was if she didn’t scream at him and throw him out on his ass. Her mood swings had been _that_ bad. 

After not getting an answer, he knocked again and waited, trying to calm down and not appear _too_ wound up. 

He didn’t have to wait much longer, since he could hear the familiar tread signalling Steph was on her way. He turned around, ready to greet her, but quickly changed his mind when he saw her red cheeks and the angry glint in her ice blue eyes. He only stepped back as Steph unlocked her office and pushed the door open violently enough for the hinges to shriek and the wood to groan. 

Taking it as his cue to tread carefully, Brock followed her in, closing the door as best as he could and locking it. 

“Please don’t be here to pile more shit over my head. It’s honestly the last thing I need right now after Fury and his Helicarrier bullshit. So if you are, hold it for at least another day.”

Steph spat out, moving to her desk and falling into her chair heavily. She took a deep breath, exhaled, then turned to him. 

Brock’s eyes widened a fraction at her words, filing away the information for later use. So Fury had moved ahead and showed her the Helicarriers. Probably explained their purpose also. He would have to run _that_ by Pierce.

He was willing to bet that Steph wasn’t keen on the plan as presented by Fury and the sooner they had some contingency plan for that, the better. 

As Brock was running all of those variables in his mind, Steph gave an irritated sigh, bringing his attention back to her.

“Well? Is it the logistics of Kashmir? Because Rollins-”

He cut her off by pulling the cardboard box out of the plastic bag and shoving it towards her. 

She stared at it for a few moments, blinking rapidly as she put the pieces together before she slowly looked up at him. 

“Is this some kind of joke, Brock? Because I can guarantee that it is _not_ funny.”

Brock shook his head. “It’s not a joke. It’s something we should rule out. You’ve been exhausted lately. Your concentration has been off to the point that even the Director noticed. And not to be crude, but you’re you know, _bigger_.” 

He gestured to her chest, making Steph look down at the straining buttons on her blouse and at the slightly too tight skirt she was wearing. 

She wanted to protest and snarl at him. Right before she hurled the box at his head. Yet she couldn’t negate what he had pointed out. And if Pierce was noticing, then she supposed he had an excuse to pull her off field work. 

Brock was right. The sooner that they could rule out the possibility of her being in the family way, the faster she could be on the field. 

And if she was…

She cut that train of thought off right away. She obviously couldn’t be. Dr. Erskine hadn’t really given her an answer to that question and since she was in the middle of a bloody _war_ and then with Bucky gone, and then the Valkyrie crashing, then the invasion of New York…

Steph still didn’t know. And didn’t want to know. She wasn’t regular still, and she had refused to find out, figuring that it was no life to bring in a child even if she could. So she remained in limbo and shoved it out of her mind, focusing on her job, her friends, and Brock. 

“Fine. I’ll take the damned test.The sooner we can get this farce over and done with, the better.” 

She picked it up and stalked out of her office, leaving Brock to take one of the chairs and wait. 

~*~*~*~*~

Stevie entered her apartment building in a haze, barely registering her neighbour as she passed by her. Sharon. The nurse. Or something. She was a little too busy trying to keep it together until she got to her apartment. 

Brock had offered to take her back and stay with her despite the looming mission, but she had refused his concern and assured him she would be fine once she had enough time for the news to sink in. 

Brock had looked doubtful, but he had respected her wishes and let her go with a kiss and a promise to be back soon. 

She had trudged up the stairs and had nearly bumped into Sharon. 

“Oh hey! Nearly didn’t see you there!” Sharon had chirped, pulling Steph out of her thoughts. 

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry for nearly barging into you. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.” Steph apologised as they both paused in the hallway, Sharon propping her basket on her hip while she pushed an errant lock of blonde hair out of her face. 

Sharon nodded, before her face lit up in comprehension. 

“It explains why I was hearing music from your apartment.” Sharon explained, making Stevie blink in surprise.

Sharon drew back towards the laundry room. 

“Or maybe you had it on a timer? Anyways, just wanted to let you know before you got a big surprise.”

Steph thanked her absently and headed towards her apartment and entered it, not noticing that Sharon had paused right before the laundry room and watched her go. 

Steph heard the music, but it didn’t put her on alert. At least not like the metallic scent of blood in the air. It was that, which made her pick up her shield and walk slowly towards the living room only to find a bloodied and badly injured Fury sitting in her chair. 

It was a blur afterwards, what exactly happened right before the bullets tore through her place. 

Fury had only enough time to tell her that SHIELD was compromised and her apartment was bugged as half-composed texts on his mobile. He only had enough time to hand over a flash drive that she stuffed into her bra before he was shot. 

She didn’t think twice about going after the shooter, confronting him on the rooftop and feeling a sickening sense of familiarity. 

But of what, she didn’t know and couldn’t say. There was nothing about the shooter that should have sparked that in her. 

Yet she felt like she _knew_ him. 

That thought stayed with her as she went through the motions in the hospital and watched numbly as Natasha openly grieved Fury. 

She wanted to do more, but with the knowledge she carried on her and within her, she had to plan. 

The open vending machine gave her an out. 

“Rogers, Director Pierce wants to see you. Now.”

Despite the lighting bolt of surprise at hearing Brock’s voice and at the wary look in Natasha’s eyes, she ended up going with him. 

Steph knew that there was a dissonance between them now. A distance that hadn’t been there the night before when he had dropped her off at her place. She couldn’t address it at the moment and she knew, just by casting sidelong glances at Brock, he didn’t want to either. 

So they were left at a stalemate that was briefly broken by him brushing her hand and looking at her right before he ushered her into Director Pierce’s office. 

Stevie knew that there was something _off_ from the beginning and forced herself to keep calm and not react. 

She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was that made her instincts go off, but it was there in the way that Pierce looked at her. The way that he talked to her, oil and deceit oozing from his words and the way that he tried to move closer to her when he told her of Fury’s supposed deception. 

She had taken a step back when he had pointed out the house number and pointedly asked her twice if Fury had said anything or given her any information.

“You know that anything he may have said or done will help us to find out how far the deception goes. And how we can stop it before we launch the Helicarriers.”

Pierce had stated, coming closer and putting the paternal look of concern on her which made her skin crawl and take a step back as to not even brush by him. The idea of him touching her made her recoil internally. 

“I’m sure it is. But I don’t have anything, I’m afraid to say.” Stevie repeated, giving him the bland, tight lipped smile she had perfected during her time as an USO girl. 

Pierce’s own lips pressed into a thin line and for a second, there was a spark of cold rage in those blue eyes before he became the patient father figure once again. 

“Of course. But do let me know if you can recall anything later on.” 

Stevie gave him a nod before she hurried out the office and nearly ran smack into Rollins. 

He grabbed her to keep her from falling, giving him enough time to get close enough to her.

“ _We’re going to play interference. Fifteen minutes. Use your time wisely.”_

She didn’t bother to acknowledge what Rollins was telling her and simply took his advice and ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week has been a bit hectic and I had to do a bit more polishing up of this chapter hence the split between the first part and the second part.  
> Stevie-She's not stupid, but she ignored the signs and didn't know them because she was SO sure that she wasn't ever going to be in that situation. She and Brock will talk about that later though. It's not just going to be ignored when the other shit hits the fan.  
> Brock-Not the most tactful person, but he's fully aware that Stevie needs to know what is going on so she doesn't take risks. Or worse, gets imprisoned at Pierce's whims.  
> Fury-I decided that I wasn't going to retell the movie frame by frame here, hence the moving past some parts and going on to the others.  
> Pierce-I basically wanted to write him like a slick and charming CEO, but one that is surface charming and Stevie would definitely pick up on the vibes due to small things like his micro expresions and proximity.  
> Rollins-More on his part in the later chapters. He's picked his own side.


	8. Fox on the run, you scream and everybody comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie takes off, but doesn't get far and Brock finds himself in the unenviable position of being used as leverage. Especially since he knows how those things usually go.

Stevie had followed Rollins’ advice and had only paused to go to her office and get her bag and civilian clothes. She left her mobile and tried to move fast, but not fast enough to draw more attention to herself.

It was bad enough she was in her suit, shield, and sticks clipped to her belt. That outfit always drew attention and it was a hassle she didn’t need at this moment. She stuffed the clothes in her bag and figured she would change later, all the while cursing Pierce’s insistence that she be suited up before coming to see him. It would waste time she didn’t have and she guessed that may have been part of the reason behind the request. Rollins and Brock could only do so much before Pierce sent everyone after her.

Something that she wasn’t looking forward to. Especially if it meant putting her child in danger. Would the serum be enough to keep her child safe? Or was she risking its life needlessly? She bit her lip and tried to push it out of her mind. She needed to get out of the Triskelion first. Get the thumb drive. Find the assassin and then-

She’d figure it out. 

Once she was done, she left her office and moved quickly to the bathroom to plot out a different route of escape. 

Stevie had just stepped in when Natasha stepped out of one of the stalls. 

“Care to tell me why you’re in such a rush? Going back to the hospital?'

Stevie paled and Natasha pursed her lips before sighing heavily.

“It’s fine. This is probably the only place that’s not bugged. I also found the drive you stashed in the vending machine. What’s so important that you’re rushing off in full gear, Captain?”

Her voice was brittle and Stevie winced. Of course she would be asking questions. She had most of the pieces, but not all of them made sense. And Fury’s death on top of that, well Stevie understood. 

“SHIELD is compromised as is Pierce. Fury gave me the proof and I hid it in the machine. I didn’t want to have it with me and lose it. Particularly not to Pierce. Fury told me not to trust anyone in SHIELD before he was killed off by the assassin with the metal arm.”

Natasha’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Pierce didn’t get it, I’m guessing?”

Stevie shook her head. “Rollins and Rumlow are running interference, but he wants it and I’ve got a target on my back. I can’t fight them all. So I need you to take it, find out what’s on the drive, and get to Sam if they come after you. He will help you.”

Natasha frowned at that. “And that explains why Fury is dead. That assassin, he’s a ghost. Not supposed to exist. Very few escape him.”

Stevie blanched. “Who is he?”

Natasha sighed heavily. “They call him the Winter Soldier and rumor has it he was either the Russian’s or HYDRA’s. And you’d better hope he’s the Russians, because if he’s HYDRA’s, they’re going to send him after you. Stevie, you can’t take them on alone! I can help-”

“No. One of us needs to get out and figure out why Pierce wants that drive. I’m on borrowed time. I can run, but I won’t get that far. Especially with what you just told me. _You_ need to go.”

Natasha chewed on her bottom lip at the news. “Why not Stevie? Is it the serum? Is it failing?”

Stevie shook her head. “I’m pregnant and I don’t know if I can trust the serum to see me through the fight I’d need to have to get loose if it’s also helping the baby.”

Natasha’s face went blank at the news before she reached out and clasped Stevie’s hand briefly before she turned to the door.

“Take care of yourself Stevie. We’ll be waiting for you.”

Stevie smiled briefly. “I’ll try.” 

Natasha smiled back, then disappeared, leaving Stevie to collect herself and wait a few moments before leaving the washroom and heading off to the other staff elevator. 

When it came, it was empty and Stevie breathed a sigh of relief. She rode it down to the main floor, tensing up whenever it would make a stop. But other than a few of the accounting or tech support, no one else was on it. 

She left through the main entrance and other than a few cursory looks, no one really took note of her. 

As much as she considered it an advantage, she knew that it wasn’t a good sign. Pierce was planning something and planning something big.

Knowing this, she moved towards the parking lot and looked for an inconspicuous car to get her away from the Triskelion. 

She found a truck with a half open window and easily slipped in. In five minutes, she was driving off, keeping her eye on the rearview mirror in case she was being followed. 

She didn’t see any cars as she drove, and the tension was leaving her body as she got further away from the Triskelion. She breathed a sigh of relief as she got further and further away and no tails. She got a boost of confidence at that and kept driving, going to the highway and hopefully towards Sam’s place. 

Stevie had just turned on the signal when a car came flying out of the intersection and slammed into the truck, hitting it such force that it skittered across the road.

The truck smashed into another car, throwing her against the window. Her head smacked against the window, shattering it and knocking her out briefly. 

She came to when bullets ricocheted off the truck, jerking her awake and making her groan in pain from both her head and her arm. Blood trickled down from her forehead, making her blink and wipe it away with her free hand. 

“Shit.” She swore when her fingers pressed down on the open wound. It should have been on its way to healing, but it felt raw and sore, making a small pang of worry rise up. She squashed it quickly when more bullets hit the side of the truck and she thanked her lucky stars that she had grabbed a bulletproof vehicle. 

Or else she would have been dead already. Or near to it. 

Gritting her teeth against the pain emanating from the arm that hit the door, she forced herself into a sitting position and grabbed her shield. 

That was the plan, but her arm simply flopped uselessly, letting her shield slip to the floor. Shit. She was definitely at a disadvantage here. She looked around for an escape route and saw the only viable route was the back. Growling in frustration, she kicked out the back window of the truck and gracelessly fell into the bed.

It hurt, but she pushed the pain away in order to escape. It felt futile, but she was willing to try and get away as far as she possibly could. If she was going to be brought in, she wasn’t going to be a sitting duck for them to do so.

She jumped out of the truck, landing heavily and needing a few moments to catch her breath, looking over her shoulder for her assailants. She sighed in relief when she didn’t see anyone and started moving towards one of the buildings, figuring she could hide in at least one of them until the serum’s healing factor kicked in and she could fight on an even plain. 

At least that was the plan until _he_ stepped in her path, making her stop abruptly.

It was the same assassin that she had briefly chased at her apartment. _Him._ The one that Natasha called the Winter Soldier. 

Stevie’s mouth tightened as she debated running or standing her ground to fight. If she ran, she would only have a few moments of a lead. But fighting…

She ran. 

The serum had kicked in a bit, but her arm, held tightly against her chest, was still throbbing in pain. There was no way she’d be able to get any blows in. not injured and certainly not pregnant. 

She cringed at having forgotten the life she carried and hoped that they were okay, even with all that she had faced. She figured that the serum was doing its job in keeping the baby safe, but still, she couldn’t help thinking of it. 

She ran, putting distance between them. But it wasn’t enough. 

He quickly caught up with her, tackling her from behind and making her fall heavily onto the pavement, her broken arm trapped between her body and the ground. The impact made stars implode in her vision and she was breathless with pain and unable to move, making it easy for the assassin to get her arms behind her back. 

She struggled, stopping only when her arm was yanked roughly as it was secured behind her back. Her vision swam at the rough treatment and she gave no struggle as she was yanked to her feet and spun around to face her attacker. 

He was wearing a mask, and no goggles, leaving his eyes free. Grey blue eyes, she noted muzzily as she was pulled away. Grey blue eyes she knew. 

_“Like Bucky’s…”_ The thought drifted in her mind for a second before the blow came at the back of her head and then nothing. 

~*~*~*~*

Brock spat out blood in front of him, his mouth sore at the unexpected blow. He squinted up at the guard that had just hit him and snarled. He knew he wasn’t a pretty sight at the moment. Not after he had been swarmed after leaving his office right after uploading the virus that had caused enough havoc to buy Steph the extra time to get out. 

He had gone out, not expecting to be attacked, but rather to be called to hunt Steph down. 

“It’s nothing personal, Rumlow. Just following orders.” One of them had said before he had been blinded by a blow that had split his eyebrow and rattled him enough for them to get the jump on him. 

He had no chance to get any blows in. The beating was quick, brutal and efficient. Just like he had taught them. No room for error and no chance at getting his knives. If he still had them.

His attackers were smart enough to strip him of everything he could have used before beating him silly. He only had his tactical gear and nothing else. They must have stripped him when he was out cold, since there had been a particular brutal blow to his temple that had made his head snap to the side.

He was sure he had been knocked out for a good while, since he didn’t remember being moved to Pierce’s office and being forced to kneel. Nor did he recall the cuffs holding his hands behind his back, neutralising him.

Pierce himself was on a call and he only gestured to the guard to make Brock kneel. 

He hadn’t wanted to, but after getting another punch to the face, Brock relented.

“Glad you joined us again, Rumlow. We were getting worried there for awhile. We thought that you wouldn’t be awake for the next part.”

Pierce commented dryly after ending the phone call and turning back to him.

“Yeah, well tends to happen if you get hit hard enough. Besides, why is it so important that I am here for the next part?”

It wasn’t quite up to his usual sarcastic standards, but it was enough for Pierce to glare at him. 

“To have a family reunion. We have Captain Rogers, despite the help she got in having a head start. The Asset is on his way back with her.”

Brock’s stomach clenched at the information and he couldn’t help but to glance at the door where Jack was posted. 

Jack, to his credit, did nothing. Staring ahead and holding his weapon like he had been trained to do. 

So it hadn’t been traced to them. Good.

Brock worked his jaw at that knowledge and shrugged. 

“No words? I mean we did bring your lover and child back. No words for that at all?”

Brock sneered at that. “She was a mission. And it’s not like I’m a family man. Not like I was going to take the kid to Disneyland and watch it join Little League or something.”

Pierce snorted at that as he moved behind Brock. “Yeah, well she sure thought so. Didn’t you, Captain?”

Brock felt the blood drain from his face as he then saw the battered and utterly broken looking form of Steph being half-dragged, half-carried into Pierce’s office and unceremoniously dumped in front of him. 

Well, not quite right in front of him. The Asset had been smart enough to leave space between them, since he was sure if she had been directly in front of him, she would have given him the second teeth rattling blow he knew he so richly deserved. 

She actually moved towards him, but was restrained by the metal hand of the Asset. A grip that didn’t let up despite Steph being still and settling at glaring holes into Brock. In fact, if anything, Brock would classify it as being possessive. But why?

He looked up and saw that the Asset’s expression wasn’t blank as it usually was. If anything, Brock would say that he looked _thoughtful_. As if he was putting pieces together that hadn’t fit before. 

“Is it true? I was just a mission for you? For your precious HYDRA? Cause that’s what you are, yeah? A fucking squid?”

Steph spat out, the words feeling as if she had doused him with acid as they were flung at him. 

Brock’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to come up with something that wasn’t quite the truth, nor a lie, but also wouldn’t damn them completely. 

“Steph, it isn’t like that. Well-” Brock tried, but Pierce interrupted.

“He is. We all are. Is that what you got from the drive? Or was there more?”

Pierce asked, making Steph’s mouth snap shut.

“Come now, Captain. It’s not like you have much to bargain with here. Fury is gone, Romanov will be found sooner than later. We already tracked her down to New Jersey. The Helicarriers will be going up on schedule. And your child...Well, HYDRA will guarantee that if the serum doesn’t work on them, they will have the finest medical care. And you will have Rumlow beside you to raise it.”

Steph’s face, despite the blood and dirt, went deathly white, while the Asset’s hand tightened on her shoulder again. Brock himself was stunned and swallowed hard when he heard the gun click behind him as the safety was disengaged.

“Let’s up the stakes, Captain. His life for the information. Or rather, his usefulness.”

Brock’s heart sped up at the implication. He gave Steph a desperate glance that Steph returned. She was still angry, he could see that by how her nostrils flared and the high spots of colour on her cheekbones, but she wasn’t angry enough that she didn’t understand the implications of what Pierce was telling her. 

There were several minutes of dead silence before Steph finally sighed heavily.

“I didn’t get anything from it. I don’t have it.”

Brock knew it was the wrong answer the moment that she struggled to get to her feet. 

He only had time to register the explosions of guns going off, the burning in the middle of his back and Steph screaming his name. And then-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so this is where the timeline goes even wonkier than all out and the Winter Soldier appears. I will freely admit that the conflict between Brock and Stevie is the main focus and the Winter Soldier coming in also. Hence the shifting of pieces and certain situations. 
> 
> I know that there is a lot of gaps and fill in the lines, but I swear things will come through as the chapters progress. I've been outlining and thinking of scenarios when not reading up on Astronomy and the Stormlight Archive and minding a sproglet.
> 
> I also thank everyone reading this for your patience and your support in reading this. Greatly appreciated.


	9. I'll Be There To Catch You If You Fall, If We Matter At All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie and the others have to pick up the pieces after HYDRA has been discovered and all of SHIELD has imploded. Seeing no other option, Stevie enlists Tony Stark and calls in a favor. And dropping several surprises at the same time.

Stevie legs felt wobbly as she limped through the hallways and it took tremendous effort for her to keep moving. If it hadn’t been for Bucky ( _ It was him. She was sure of it. Who else could it be? It was Bucky. She couldn’t call him the Winter Soldier. Not once she saw his face) _ holding her up, she would have collapsed. She wanted to pretend that she was doing it under her own steam, but it wasn’t true. They had barely made it out of the building and the helicarriers and the conflagration that followed. 

In fact, she wasn’t  _ quite _ sure if that was really the case. Her brain had shorted out right after Pierce had shot and Rollins and Bucky had responded. She dimly remembered the sick horror of Brock collapsing and Pierce’s body slammed back against his desk as the bullets tore through him. Her ears were ringing and she knew she was screaming, but hadn’t heard a sound. 

She had been helpless in a way she hadn’t been since the war. She couldn’t act. She could only react as her brain kicked itself back online. It had been the reason why Bucky had managed to do anything with her as Rollins had done the same with Brock. Otherwise…

She actually didn’t want to think about what would have happened otherwise, but she didn’t have to. Rollins had acted like a good SIC would have and Bucky had followed his lead and done the same for  _ his _ CO. 

“Almost there.” Bucky murmured as they made it to the row of moulded plastic seats in the emergency ward that was bustling with the fall out of the helicarriers and SHIELD’s demise. No one batted an eye as they took two seats. In fact, it was if they were invisible to the nurses and doctors scrambling to take care of the influx of injured and dead that were being carted into the hospital. 

Rollins had disappeared with Brock. That much Stevie knew. She dimly recalled him and Bucky having a brief conversation before her attention wandered and she was hauled to the ward to wait for Rollins and any news he could bring them. 

Stevie groaned as Bucky helped her sit. The older injuries were making themselves known and her eyesight was blurring and white at the edges as she let Bucky position her as if she were a rag doll of sorts. She panted at the pain, her eyes half-closing with it once she was settled.

She thought that she would pass out right then and there, but the tentative and gentle touch of cool metal on her face brought her back. 

Her eyes fluttered open and she was surprised to not just see Bucky but also Rollins, who despite the dirt and bruises, looked no worse for the wear. 

He smiled at her and held up a takeaway cup of iced tea and placed it in her still unsteady hands. He kept his warm hands around hers until they had stopped shaking and she was able to take a sip of the tea without spilling. It was only then that Rollins pulled his hands away and he slid into the plastic chair next to hers. 

Yet he remained quiet, his eyes focused on the action in front of him as he waited for her to finish most of the tea and get her bearings back before he said anything. He didn’t want to repeat himself or delay any longer than he had to. 

Stevie complied, knowing the protocol from earlier missions. She ignored Bucky’s eyes on her and focused on calming her racing heart and emotions. The sugar and caffeine helped to give her flagging system a boost and she was ready.

“What’s going on?” Stevie rasped out, wincing at the roughness of her own voice and taking another sip of the tea and clearing her throat. She passed the cup over to Bucky and urged him to take a sip, which he did after a bit of urging from her. 

Rollins watched the exchange and made a note of it. He hadn’t ever seen the Asset or interacted with him much. Brock was the one that did on the rare occasions and when he did, well, he didn’t say much about it. Rollins never pried. They both had learned when to ask questions and when to let things lie. It was easier that way. 

Rollins closed his eyes briefly as he pushed those thoughts away as he prepared to bring Stevie and the Assert up to date. 

“Brock’s critical, but he’s stable. For now. SHIELD is in disarray and that gives us some cover and some time.” Rollins replied, making Stevie sigh and sag against Bucky, who only wrapped an arm around her and brought her closer. 

Stevie cleared her throat and wiped at her smudged face, keeping her expression neutral as possible, making Rollins all too aware of all the times that he had to do the same thing when Brock was injured. It was so familiar that he wanted to wince and tell her he understood. 

He kept quiet though. It wasn’t the time to discuss their feelings and the repercussions of what had been said in Pierce’s offices. Right now, they needed a plan, a way out, and refuge. Hopefully somewhere without extradition laws. 

“We need a base.” Bucky interjected, making Rollins and Stevie turn and look at him. 

“He’s right. Any ideas? I can think of a few places that are off the grid. But we’d have to leave Brock behind.” Rollins commented, making Stevie shake her head. 

“We can’t leave him here! They’d throw him in the raft the minute he’d come around! Especially if the fallout is as bad as we suspect!” Stevie replied hotly. 

Rollins grimaced. “I know. But where can we go?”

Stevie chewed on her lip for a few moments, her eyes going back and forth as she weighed out their options. They’re under no illusion that Sam might be under surveillance after the helicarriers being destroyed. Or worse, in custody. As for Natasha, who knows what she may or may not have done to get the deed done. She could also be marked and on the run. Or injured. 

The only other option that they know has the clout and the facilities to not only hide them but help Brock would be-

“Do you have a phone? I think I have an answer.”

Rollins nodded, pulled out his mobile, unlocked it, and handed it over to Stevie, who quickly pressed in the number she had made a point to memorize just in case. 

_ “Please answer. Please answer.” _ She thought as the call connected and the ringing started.

She expected for the call to go straight to voicemail or drop, so it was a huge surprise when she heard a distinct ‘ _ click’ _ and 

“Tony Stark here. Rollins, fill me in.”

_ This day was definitely full of surprises, _ Stevie thought tiredly before she replied. 

“It’s Stevie and I have a favour to ask of you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Stevie hissed as Doctor Helen Cho finished wrapping the splint around her arm and carefully placed it in a sling. 

“I’m sorry about that. Here. This should help with the ache.” She states as she hands over two pills which Stevie promptly pops into her mouth and then downs with the glass of water that the doctor had the foresight to have ready. 

“Thank you.” Stevie sighs, feeling the painkillers kick in and ease the ache of her arm somewhat. An ache she hadn’t noticed while she had been in her fugue state and then with the anxiety as Tony had sent a quinjet over to take them to New York and Stark Tower. 

She had met the doctor then, since she was needed to supervise Brock’s transport. 

Something that ended up being trickier than expected and took the combined efforts of Tony and Dr. Cho to facilitate, since SHIELD had not wanted to let one of their big guns out of their sight and care. Even if it was to a couple of luminaries like Tony and Dr. Cho. They wanted to keep it all in house, and had even baulked at letting Stevie walk out, but Tony managed to charm them and promise to keep in touch, finally making it possible for them to leave. 

Stevie and Jack sat beside Brock’s unconscious form in the Quinjet while Bucky sat in the corner, watching them all. Tony and the doctor had opted to be in the front, leaving them alone. 

A good thing, Stevie admitted later. She was barely holding it together from the pain of her injuries and from seeing Brock out of it with tubes and wires and monitors all over. Someone had wiped up the blood and put butterfly bandages on some of the cuts from the beatings. His eye was swollen shut and his cheekbones were blossoming purplish red from the earlier hits. It was better than when he had collapsed in front of her, his face drained of blood as he had fallen. 

Rollins must have known how she was feeling, since he had reached out and gently squeezed her good hand. He was sympathetic, but didn’t say anything. His expression, softer than she had ever seen it, had said enough. 

She put the glass down, the sound pushing the memories of that flight away. She didn’t want to think about Brock right now. Especially when she was going to need all of her wits about her to plead for all of their cases. 

Especially after Natasha had dumped all of the secret files on the internet for anyone and everyone to look at. Brock and Rollins would no doubt be exposed and despite the dull ache of betrayal sitting right below her ribs, she wasn’t going to let them rot in the raft. 

She glanced over to her left, where Bucky was obediently sitting out of the way, but very clearly acting as her shadow. Just like Rollins was doing for Brock. 

At least she assumed that was what he was doing. She had been still kind of fuzzy as Bucky had taken her to see Doctor Cho once Brock had been settled. 

“I’m surprised that you weren’t seen at the hospital.” Dr. Cho’s quiet voice pulled her out of her musings, making her shrug. 

“I wasn’t as badly hurt as others. Maybe they figured the serum would take care of it all. Or maybe it was Bucky over there that made them hesitant to come near me.”

Dr. Cho looked at Bucky, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of him. 

“Possibly.” She smiled blandly as she looked at her Starkpad. “Other than the cuts and the break, you seem to be alright. The serum is working, albeit slowly. Anything else we should be on the lookout for?”

Stevie’s face drained of blood at the words and shame suffused every part of her. How had she been able to forget her baby?”

“I’m pregnant. At least...Oh God. I  _ think _ I’m still pregnant. The serum...I-I-”

Dimly, she heard the creak of Bucky’s leathers as she moved, but he didn’t come near. All she felt was Dr. Cho moving closer. The doctor’s light touch on her shoulder brought Stevie back from the edge of a panic attack, making her trail off and focus on the doctor, who radiated a much needed serenity. 

“We can do tests, Captain. Once we know what we’re dealing with, we can go from there. There’s no sense in you stressing yourself out further. It has been a hell of a day for you. Let’s take it one step at a time and go from there, alright?”

Stevie nodded, feeling herself calm down enough to follow the doctor’s instructions to lie down on the table and lift up the plain t-shirt and pants combo she had been put into once she had arrived. Her uniform was filthy and destroyed beyond salvaging and she had just told them to get rid of it. Besides, she was sure that Tony would design her a better one once the dust settled and he could get back to his lab instead of running around putting fires out. 

“The gel is going to be cold for the ultrasound, by the way.” Dr. Cho explained apologetically as she smeared the conductor gel over Stevie’s abdomen before she turned on the ultrasound. 

Stevie bit her lip as the scanner moved over her still flat abdomen. She watched the doctor’s face as she moved the instrument around, her eyes widening right before she turned on the sound and tilted the screen so that Stevie could see. 

A soft wooshing sound accompanied by the small blurry image that the doctor pointed excitedly to. 

“This is your baby and judging from that heartbeat, it’s fine. I’d say you’re about fourteen weeks here. The serum kept it safe and because of this I’d recommend you be off duty until the baby arrives.”

Dr. Cho advised once she was done, making Stevie frown. 

“I can’t. I mean-” She abruptly stopped talking when she felt cool metal wrap around her shoulder, making her look up into Bucky’s concerned face. 

“Stevie...Listen to the doctor. She’s right.” His voice was low and flat, but it was the same voice she had been hearing in her dreams for years. He was here and he was again telling her to be careful like he always had. He wouldn’t dream of stopping her, but a careful word from him would always make her rethink being reckless. Even if she didn’t follow his advice very often. 

“You didn’t do all of this to just lose it. Take it easy. If not for yourself, then for the kid.”

Stevie rubbed her face roughly with her free hand, trying to not get overwhelmed again. They were right and she was being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn. This wasn’t the time for it. She was safe. She could let her guard down. 

She lowered her hand and accepted the towel that was handed to her. 

“Alright. I’ll take a break. At least until the baby is born.” She stated as she wiped off the gel off and sat up with Bucky’s help. 

He didn’t let her go and if Stevie took the opportunity to lean against him while Dr. Cho talked about what changes she would need to make for the baby’s arrival, well, she wasn’t telling. 

~*~*~*~*~

Tony was flipping through schematics when Cap arrived, his attention half on the designs and the rest of it on Stevie herself as she walked in with what they  _ thought _ was the long dead Sergeant Barnes right behind her. 

Both looked worse for the wear and the clean t-shirts and pants they had been given helped a little, but there was no denying that they looked awful. Cap herself looked like if it hadn’t been for Barnes subtly holding her up, she’d have face planted on the ground. The bruises and arm in the a sling didn’t help the situation and for once, he found himself worried for the Cap.

She had always bounced back, yet here she was looking like she had been in a bar fight and gotten the worst of it. Even Barnes didn’t look as messed up 

He squared his shoulders and forced his expression into a neutral one before he addressed the issues that came up from the meeting that he just had with Ross and the few trustworthy heads of what was left of SHIELD.

It had been his designs that had been worked into the helicarriers after all. Everyone wanted answers as to how far Pierce’s deception went, so he was dragged into this, whether he liked it or not. 

And now that he had offered asylum to Cap and her band of merry men...He was being pressed for even more answers. 

“Cap. You’ve looked better.” 

Cap only gave him a half smile that looked like it had cost her far too much to give. Barnes only cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow.

Probably mentally comparing him to his father, no doubt, Tony guessed. He didn’t have time to make a remark, since Cap spoke. 

“I’ve felt better. Even the battle of New York didn’t kick my ass as much.” Her voice was strained and weary and for once, Tony didn’t feel like needling her. 

It was the only reason why he found himself nodding in agreement.It must have been hell she faced if it left her looking like  _ that _ .

“Right. Well, I’m sure you aren’t here to waste time. What is it that you need from me?”

Cap flinched at the bluntness, but Tony didn’t regret it. This wasn’t the time for verbal sparring. He needed to know what she wanted and fast so he could broker something with Ross and SHIELD, who were only just holding off on imprisoning all of them. American icon or not.

“Amnesty for Rumlow, Rollins, and Barnes. A place to hide out for the next year or so. You did say that your tower had room and was safe, so I’m taking you up on your invitation.”

It was Tony’s turn to be surprised. Of course he had made the invitation, but he hadn’t been sure that anyone would actually take it. Especially with how they all had scattered to the four winds after the battle was done. 

Cap sighed and rubbed her eyes hard, making them even redder than before. 

“Look, if you’re not willing to do it, then just give us enough supplies for us to make our way somewhere. That’s all. I know this isn’t ideal, but-”

“You can have it. I was just surprised that you actually considered taking up my invitation, that’s all. The place has security and Jarvis will take care of what you need. As for Amnesty, well, that’s going to be tricky.”

Tony interrupted before Cap got worked up and they got derailed into a sniping match. He also was painfully aware of Barnes’ expression getting darker and darker and the last thing he wanted was an outright battle in his lab. Especially since he was Cap, but in male form. 

“Jack Rollins can testify. As can Brock Rumlow once he’s...Once he’s better. It’s not going to be a one way request. They have intel. You worked with them. You know that’s true.”

Cap pointed out reasonably. 

“And Barnes?”

Cap shook her head. “He’s been MIA because he was serving this country. He stays with me. That’s non-negotiable.”

The familiar steel was back in her voice and Tony didn’t bother to contradict her. It wasn’t in his hands either way and he was sure that if he said anything against that, she’d take off. She was  _ that _ stubborn and spiteful enough to do so if she felt like she had to. 

“Fine. I’ll let the brass know. When can we expect testimony from Rumlow and Rollins?”

Cap looked away at that, her shoulders sagging at the question.

“I don’t know.”

Her face got that mulish expression that Tony knew better than to challenge and Tony for once, didn’t push. 

As curious as he was, he was all too aware it wasn’t the time. 

“I’ll pass on the information then. Let’s get you settled. Rest up, because it’s going to be hectic once everything gets sorted.”

Cap nodded tiredly, sighing heavily before she turned back to him. 

“One last thing. I’m pregnant. And Rumlow is the father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a few issues come up which delayed the writing of this part. Oddly enough, it was getting it down after doing outline after outline that was the hard part. Huh. 
> 
> This is mostly the first part of everyone picking themselves up after the fallout and damage has been caused. Stevie will the focus of this and yes, she will be acting out of sorts. She's had a ton of life altering stuff thrown at her. She's definitely off her game and compromised. 
> 
> More stuff will come out in chapter ten and loads more conversations will be had. So again, to all that are reading and sticking around, thanks!


	10. We Can Go Where They Are, Don't Fear The Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rollins has moments of introspection as he continues his vigil at Brock's bedside, musing on the aftermath and what is to come. Meanwhile, Bucky starts piecing things together just in time for Stevie to come home with great news.

The music wasn’t loud, but it was loud enough to cover the sounds of the machines that Brock was hooked up to. 

The staff had been kind enough to let Rollins bring in a bluetooth speaker so that he’d be able to put on Brock’s playlist of classic rock and prog rock that Jack had often teased him about. He never could fathom where Brock, a Hell’s Kitchen product, had picked up his affinity for such bands. Bowie, he got. But Blue Oyster Cult? That one was just a mystery. 

He made a mental note to ask later. He frowned as he thought about that not being a possibility. Brock was tough as nails, but even the Cap herself would be hard pressed to be able to walk away from such an injury. It was that bad and Rollins had to forcefully tell himself to not think of that outcome.

“Come on, Brock. Come on. You’ve pulled through before. Come on. Do it once more. Come on. Just once more. For  _ us _ .” 

It was the litany that he had been repeating over and over again when he had wordlessly made the agreement with the asset after they had shot up Pierce and they hauled out their respective lovers. They had just acted, getting them out and to safety.

He had signaled the Asset where to go, and had commandeered a crew to get Brock help. He felt a slight twinge of guilt at that. Just a small one, since Brock was bleeding and it was only the heavy duty bandages that kept him from bleeding out completely. As it was, he had gone into arrest when they had pulled him into ICU.

Rollins shook his head. He had nearly burst through the doors into the room they had taken Brock into, but was only stopped by three nurses assuring him that Brock was out of danger. They had even made sure to let him in to see Brock with his own eyes and to verify that despite looking pale as snow, Brock was still alive. Hooked up to a ton of machines and lines, but he was still alive. 

He stretched out a bit, popping his back before he slouched in the comfortable chair that was a far cry from other hospital chairs he had occupied over the years. His back didn’t hurt even though he had fallen asleep in it. Hell, they had even given him a blanket and told him that they could move a cot into the room if he was going to stay longer.

He had taken them up on the offer. As well as the offer of food, a shower, and clean clothes. Rollins had accepted them all gratefully, returning to his vigil once he was clean and fed. They had also given him a Starkpad preloaded with apps and hundreds of books and music so he didn’t have to sit there with just the sounds of the machines keeping him company. 

It had been a relief as the days dragged on into weeks, the monotony broken only by visits from medical personnel, Rogers, Romanova and Wilson. On occasion, the Asset would show up with Rogers, but it wasn’t often that happened. He had his own issues that needed to be taken care of and he would get almost jealous if Rogers wasn’t focused on  _ him. _ The visits from Rogers and the others weren’t as frequent due to them needing to tie up all the loose ends SHIELD’S collapse had left. Wilson did come as often as he could, to chat and to play games, or to sit with a book or a tablet while Jack went to the gym to work out his frustrations and anxieties. 

Stark had talked to him a couple of times and had stopped to give him a keycard and a list of which floors he had access to and which he was barred to. “You’re not a prisoner, Rollins. But I can’t vouch for your safety if you step out of the tower without Cap. Even Natasha or Wilson don’t have the authority and well, I did promise Cap to watch out for all of you.” Stark gave Rollins a sympathetic smile before he left, and Rollins felt the need to get to the gym and blow off as much steam as he could. And if he had a bit of a breakdown in the showers after, no one would be the wiser. 

Stark’s gesture was far kinder than he deserved and he knew it. He had tried to thank Rogers, but she had only brushed him off and told him to keep an eye on Brock while she tried to put out fires and work an amnesty agreement. Rollins had gathered as much when he had gone on the news sites and found that Romanova had dumped it all online, exposing not just herself, but Pierce, Sitwell, and the STRIKE team as well. At least it looked like she had exposed them. He hoped that the others had seen the writing on the wall and pulled stakes. 

Speaking of pulling up stakes…

Rollins pulled out his hacking kit from his pocket and with a little bit of fiddling, he was able to start moving funds into the offshore accounts that looked to be dormant until he started working on them. He didn’t feel bad about parceling out the cash. As far as he was concerned, they all had earned that money. They had to do the dirty work, they might as well get some benefits from tarnishing themselves for a cause that ultimately rang hollow. 

And nearly got them killed. His mouth tightened as he glanced over at Brock. 

Brock, who was still comatose and hooked up to a respirator to breathe for him. Tubes fed him, drained his wastes, and kept him alive. He was at least wearing a cotton gown that hid the worst of the thick bandaging that hid the grievous wound Pierce had inflicted on him.

It had been the combined training of both himself and the Asset that had ensured Brock had a shot at surviving. And Brock’s own instincts to try and get out of the worst of it. They had shot Pierce right at the same time and at the perfect trajectory to make the shot go wide. It had been the only time where he was grateful for his training, since he was able to take the shot and give Brock aid despite wanting to fall apart like Rogers had. 

He still didn’t know what the Asset did after. Only that he had gotten her calm and quiet, despite her not quite being there until he had put that iced tea in her hands. He needed to thank him for that soon. Or at least when Brock finally woke up. 

Rollins made a face at that and focused on his work, ending the transfer, wiping his tracks and pulling out. His work was done and their future assets secured. They had gotten what was owed to them. That was all that mattered. 

Sighing, he put the Starkpad back together and his tools away before he continued onto his news scrolling. Nothing new other than the files dumped and more HYDRA agents and sleeper agents being revealed. Anxious, he scrolled through the list, letting out a relieved sigh when he didn’t see their names. Or their aliases. 

He made a small satisfied sound at that information still not being out there and turned to Brock, who was still unconscious. His eyes though, moved slowly under his eyelids. Maybe it was reflex, or maybe it was Brock crawling his way back to the land of the living. Rollins didn’t know. Especially not when they didn’t move again when Rollins watched over him. 

He reached over and squeezed Brock’s hand.

“Come back, Brock. Come back to us.” He whispered, giving Brock’s hand one last squeeze before he let go and sat back in his chair. 

Rollins watched Brock for a few moments before his vigil was interrupted by a light knocking on the glass door before it opened to reveal Rogers. 

A Rogers that was careworn, fragile, and softer than Rollins had ever seen her.

She caught the direction of his gaze and laughed softly, pushing loose strands of hair away from her fancy hairstyle as she made her way into the room.

“I know. I know. I’ve been busy. How are you, Jack? How is he?”

~*~*~*~

The Asset, he paused and frowned as the name Stevie used pushed itself forward, insistent and  _ right _ . No, not the Asset.  _ Bucky _ . Bucky Barnes. Yes. 

Bucky. That's who he was. Not the Asset. That was what the Director called him. His handler. He was gone now. He made sure of it. Double tapped and Rollins had pumped two shots into his chest just in case. 

Overkill, but it was nice to have the proof when he woke up in the middle of the night with his heart beating too fast in his chest, and bathed in icy sweat. He would find himself frantically looking at every corner of the room, sure that the Director would have him in the chair until Stevie would turn on the light. The soft light and her soothing voice would work to slowly bring him back to himself. 

“My name is Bucky Barnes. I am Bucky Barnes.” He murmured as he zoomed in to the picture of the Smithsonian exhibition that Stevie had shown him. 

“We’ll go there soon, Buck. Once we get everything worked out and have you declared alive again, rather than MIA. But for now, this is a pretty good preview.” Stevie had explained as she had handed over the tablet and shown him how to work it. She had given him a brittle smile and kissed his temple before she grabbed her jacket and took off for the day. 

He didn’t mind, even though he hoped she would stay with him instead. Hopefully in bed, huddling for warmth under the worn blankets and-

He looked up from the tablet and closed it, his hand shaking too badly to continue looking at the display. He tossed it onto the couch and sat back, hugging himself in an effort to calm his racing heart. 

He had gotten scraps of memories before. Mostly when he was asleep and with no way to verify them until he was up and coming into the kitchen to see Stevie leaning against the counter. Seeing her like that always grounded him in ways words simply  _ couldn’t _ . Despite the different kitchen and gadgets, Stevie was  _ always _ Stevie and nothing would change. 

He knew that when he walked into the kitchen, awake and shivering after a cold shower to get rid of the acrid nightmare sweats that he’d find her there. And he always did. Just like he used to back in Brooklyn. 

Stevie would always have a cup of tea cradled in her hands, her hair in a messy braid as she stood with her eyes fixed outside, watching the sunrise. She would stand there drinking her tea slowly, lost in thought until she’d pick up on his presence. It was then she’d turn and smile at him. A sleepy, soft smile that would always make his heart clench in his chest. 

It was then that he knew the scraps of memory were real. They just needed time and no electricity scrambling his brain and blowing them into fragments in order to clear his mind. No doubt his brain was healing all of the issues, the serum getting a chance to work fixing, rather than dealing with trauma. 

So the doctors had been right. That in time, he would regain it if his brain was left alone. 

“That’s good.” He muttered, lowering his arms to his sides and sitting back to let the realisation sink in. He would get it all back. Stevie. His past. The time in between-

“Bucky? Where are-Oh, there you are!” Stevie’s voice floated into the hallway before she appeared. 

She was in her stocking feet, wearing a suit and looking tired. He recognised it as one of the expensive ones that Natalia had gotten for Stevie when she was to meet with more than just SHIELD’s interim chief. She looked tired and slightly crumpled as she carried a flat box filled with smaller boxes and bags of enough take out to feed an army towards the white kitchen island. 

“Yes. You’re home early.” He stated, standing up and plucking the tray neatly from her arms. She looked only slightly put out, the old mulishness flashing in her eyes before she shrugged. Of course she would, Bucky mused, smiling as he recalled how often she did that. 

Stevie’s eyes narrowed and Bucky  _ knew _ she was going to argue as she always had. She would have if her hand hadn’t brushed her purse. When her hand hit the leather, her eyes widened and she began to dig through her purse, pulling out a large envelope and putting it in his hands. 

“What’s this?” Bucky asked, carefully opening the envelope and pulling out not just a fancy certificate, but several dark blue velvet cases. 

“Your reinstatement. And your decorations, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.” Stevie whispered, her eyes bright as she stepped forward and embraced him. 

He was stunned only for a moment, her words echoing and re-echoing his minds until they finally clicked. He was back. He wasn’t a ghost or a shadow. Or an Asset. He was James Buchanan Barnes and he was with his best girl. 

And he was free.

Bucky’s arms tightened around her right before he spun her around, making her laugh and leaving her breathless. He gave her only enough time to catch her breath before he dipped his head and kissed her like he should have during the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rollins and Barnes-Two characters that felt like they had to have their time in the spotlight and actually have a voice, so this is why this chapter happened. They were on the sidelines and it just felt like the right way to go with them.  
> Stevie and Natasha-They're being pulled in to testify and basically clean up the huge mess that HYDRA collapsing caused. So they're kind off off-screen a lot and Sam has his own job still.   
> Bucky-The idea of his mind being healed by the serum if he was able to have space and time to heal struck me. It won't be a miracle or overnight, but at least he isn't going to have to deal with his mind being borked 24/7. I never liked the words copout of the movies and the cube healing in the comics was a bit too deus ex machina. So I went with this alternative instead.   
> Brock-He will come back. Soon.   
> And thanks again for all that read!


	11. Running in Circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Stevie have a conversation, yet don't say what they need to say. Jack and Stevie talk about the choices that they need to make in regards to Brock, but end up having the choice taken out of their hands anyways

The kiss was...Was enough to short circuit Stevie’s mind and only focus on how  _ good _ Bucky felt and tasted right then and there. Like mint and something else sweet that reminded her of those peppermints the old ladies used to give them after church. Something that felt far too much like home. Just like how his arms felt around her as they stood in the kitchen, holding on as if they never wanted to ever let each other go. 

She didn’t want to. She clung to him, her hand fisting his shirt in an effort to pull him even closer as the kiss deepened. Bucky made a noise at that, pressing her even tighter against him as they kissed. She was getting dizzy and it was only Bucky himself keeping her on her feet. They probably would have continued like that, maybe even gone further if it hadn’t been for the light fluttering in her abdomen. 

Stevie thought it might have been just her imagination, but when it happened again, she automatically pulled away and put her hands on her rounded belly.

It was the baby. Her and Brock’s baby and it was making itself known for the first time, bringing her right back down to earth. 

“What is it? Are you okay, doll?” Bucky whispered, moving a tad closer in case Stevie needed his support. 

Stevie looked up, smiling a wobbly smile. “I am. It’s just that the baby moved. For the first time! They’ve moved! Here!”

She grabbed his hand and placed it on her bump, making Bucky blink. She had grabbed his metal hand without thinking about it and he wanted to pull away in case he hurt her or the baby she carried. Despite knowing her resilience, he always worried he would damage people or things with that hand. 

But she didn’t care and that trust in him had made yet another part of his psyche slot together and made him feel less like a tool and more like a human being. He smiled at her hopeful expression as they waited for the baby to move. He hoped it wouldn’t take long, since he knew it was a bit irregular for them to be standing there, with his hand on her belly. 

Not to mention that his stomach was growling and the take out was starting to cool. He didn’t quite get food in this new time, but he was sure that take out was better hot. He was about to point that out to Stevie when he felt it. A small, soft fluttering that even the sensors in his hand could pick up. 

“Oh wow! Stevie! You’re really having a baby!” He blurted out, making Stevie’s cheeks go pink at the words. 

He could have kicked himself for putting it that way. Even though he had been there when the Director had done his little mind games with Agent Rumlow and Stevie, yet it hadn’t been real. It was an abstract despite them living together and Stevie occasionally being sick and unable to eat certain things. But now, feeling the small bit of life flutter inside her made it real. 

“I am, Bucky. I mean, it was obvious, with the changes and the sickness. But feeling it move...Yeah. It made it all too real. I’m having a baby.” She repeated softly as she let go of his hand, her expression becoming introspective for a moment before she schooled her expression and looked at him again. 

He frowned at the sudden switch. She was so happy and now she was miserable and trying to hide it. And even if he was still far from being okay, he had been trained to pick up on markers and microexpressions. And Stevie’s told him that she was far from being as happy as she had projected before. 

“Stevie?” He tried, tentatively putting a hand on her shoulder. 

“I’ll be okay, Bucky. I just was remembering a few things and my feelings got away from me a bit. I’ll be fine. But right now, that food needs to be dished out and eaten.” Stevie tacked on a small smile that Bucky recognised as the one she had when she wanted the matter to drop. 

The one she pulled over when she was trying to put on a brave face. So he simply nodded and mustered up an answering smile of his own. It was a truce for the moment, but both of them knew, from a dimly remembered sense that the conversation wasn’t over yet.

“Yeah, let’s eat. I’m starving and you’ve got that little one to take care of.”

It was the right thing to say, since the smile became much wider and Stevie pulled off her suit jacket and rolled up her sleeves before heading to the cupboards. 

“Could you grab some glasses and napkins, Bucky? I’ll get the plates and then we can eat.” She requested as she pulled out plates, while Bucky himself rose and got utensils and napkins and went back for the pitcher of fruit juice and set it on the counter. 

“Alright, so help yourself. We’ve got variety. I may have gotten carried away a bit.” Stevie admitted as she opened up boxes and bags of foods Bucky could have only dreamed of.

“Nah, what we don’t eat, we can have in the morning.” Bucky replied, making Stevie laugh and launch into a story of a similar situation as she dished out rice, meats, and vegetables. 

She was smiling and laughing and Bucky grinned and nodded along as he ate his fill, letting her have this. Letting  _ him _ have this before reality crept in all too soon.

~*~*~*~*~

Jack gasped as the cold water hit his face, forcing him awake. He finished washing his face and toweled himself dry, looking at himself in the mirror as he did. 

He didn’t look as washed out as he had feared, but he did look gaunt, his cheekbones and the scar on the side of his face standing out against the pale skin and heavy stubble that covered his cheeks and jaw. He really needed to shave, he saw. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to do it just yet. Not only was he free to do whatever, he had a feeling that Brock would want to see him with stubble when he woke up. And despite the skeptical looks of some of the staff, Jack had a feeling that it was going to happen this week.

He was all too aware that many of the doctors and nurses were not holding out hope that Brock would come out of the coma. He had listened to the explanations and done his own research about comatose states. And even though he held out hope, he was painfully aware that there could be a possibility that he and Stevie would have to make a final decision on Brock’s medical care for as long as he lived. 

Grimacing at the thought of Brock wasting away in some care facility, he shook his head and hung the towel up. He continued getting ready for the day, idly debating whether he would go to the gym before Doctor Cho made her rounds or after. He still hadn’t decided when he stepped out of the small bathroom into the room. 

And nearly crashed right into Stevie, who had just stepped into the room with an armful of sunflowers in her arms. 

It was a close call, but they both had a great spatial awareness of their bodies and despite nearly being six months, Stevie could move lightly when she had to. Even if she did wobble a bit and had to have Jack reach out to steady her before she fell. 

“Stevie! Shit, I’m sorry! Nearly got you there!” Jack apologized profusely, not wanting to let her go until he was sure that she was on her feet. He may have been a lot of things, but he wasn’t that much of an ass to let a pregnant woman come to harm. 

Especially not the one that was carrying his erstwhile lover’s child. His mother had raised him better than that and he was sure that Brock would kill him when he woke up if he even dared. 

Stevie only smiled as she got herself steady. It was only then that Jack let her go and nervously put his hands in his pocket, ignoring the tingling that touching her caused him. 

“It’s alright. I should have knocked. I thought you might have been in the gym so I thought it wouldn’t matter. Not that I could knock with these in my arms.” 

Seeing an out, he reached to take the flowers.

“Let me get those for you. I think I can ask someone for a vase later.” She nodded, surrendering them to him and waddling towards Brock’s bedside as he put them on the counter on the far side of the room. 

He stayed back and watched as she sat down heavily in what he privately came to think as  _ his _ chair. She shifted a bit before she took Brock’s limp hand and gently squeezed it. She sat like that for a few moments, but Jack knew that she was praying. She always did when she visited and Jack never said anything about it. 

It wasn’t his place. She never questioned his conversation or music. Or the books he would read to Brock in hopes of guiding him back to consciousness. So Jack figured he’d return the favour and not mess with the status quo, even though both were painfully aware that once Brock was awake, would change. For the better or the worse, neither could say. 

So they simply ignored it and gave each other space, neither of them willing to open that door and start the conversation. Jack knew it wasn’t a lack of courage. Neither were cowards. But rather it was the mutual feeling that if they did, it would make it all too real and neither was sure that they could cope. 

He watched her, waiting until her head raised to signal the end of her prayers, which came quickly. He still moved slowly towards the chair on the other side of Brock’s still form and sat down, looking at Brock’s still face. He still winced at the sight of the tubes and the paleness of Brock’s dark olive skin. It was one thing he wasn’t used to. And he doubted he ever would. 

“I ran into Dr. Cho before coming here.” Stevie broke the silence, her tone measured and her words careful as she spoke. 

“Oh yeah? What did she say?” Jack asked, his tone equally careful and polite, his eyes flickering back and forth between her face and Brock’s, his gaze never settling on either one of them for long.

“She said that there might be a possibility of Brock not waking up,” She grimaced, then continued. “So we would have to make plans. And when we decide, she can take the appropriate action.”

Jack sat back and nodded. “Has she given a deadline?”

“Two weeks at the latest. She’s starting to write up care plans if we go that route. At least we won’t have to worry about the cost. It will be covered, due to your help in apprehending HYDRA.”

Stevie explained apologetically. Yet Jack could hear the bitterness in her voice. He blew out a breath as he thought about her news. Two weeks. Just two more weeks to decide on Brock’s fate. 

And he was damned sure he wasn’t going to pull the plug on Brock. 

“What do you want to do?” Jack asked Stevie sighed heavily, wincing and rubbing her bump as she had done on previous visits. 

It made Jack think that Junior wasn’t happy about the direction the conversation was taking and was making his displeasure known. 

“I don’t know if I should have any say in this. If anyone should, I think it would be only  _ you _ that should have the last say in everything. After all, I was just a honeypot mark carrying his baby.” Stevie replied, her eyes going dark with meaning as she looked at him.

Her dark gaze pinned him down and Jack felt the blood drain from his face at that answer. All of the emotion she had pushed down in the past five months were right in her eyes. And the weight of them in her gaze was making him extremely light headed and glad that he was sitting down. He didn’t think he’d be able to stand with all that emotion she was aiming at him.

As he tried to formulate a reply, the only sound in the room was the ventilator as it breathed for Brock. A sound he had become so used to that it barely registered, but was now all he could hear. Especially when it would click and stutter before resuming its regular rhythm. 

It was that which broke the deadlock between them, making Stevie shoot a confused look at Jack, at the ventilator, then back at Jack. 

“Is it supposed to do that?” Stevie asked, prompting Jack to look at the ventilator and notice the lights flickering right before the machine let out a sharp series of beeps. 

He shot out of the chair to grab the call button, pressing it a couple of times before Stevie let out a shocked cry. He looked up and his jaw dropped when he saw the reason why Stevie had cried out. 

Brock was finally awake.


	12. You Can Hear It Too If You're Sincere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack things about how he will deal with both Stevie and Brock, then has a talk with Stevie that was long delayed. Brock parses it all out and takes it as well as he possibly can under the circumstances.

It has been awhile since he actually felt the need to have a smoke. Jack knew that it wasn’t a good sign or a good idea. But that didn’t stop the itch of wanting one. Or the craving that was almost visceral in its need. 

He rubbed his mouth with his index finger and thumb, weighing the consequences and the outcomes to walking out and getting a pack from a bodega when he finally decided to head to the gym. It wasn’t quite the same, but if he needed a distraction and pain, it was the best place to get it. 

Anything to stop thinking about Stevie and Brock and the big conversation hanging over their heads. 

Brock was awake, but not fully coherent as of yet and being as bad of a patient as he always had been. They had to keep him restrained and sedated the first two days to keep him from yanking out all of the tubes they had in him. He didn’t understand and despite Jack and Stevie reassuring him, he was too agitated to listen and it was the kinder recourse. 

It also meant that he was still in no position to hear about Pierce’s last move against him. 

Jack made a face as he got to the mats and started a stretching routine to ease his way into working out and not injuring himself since he was distracted. The last thing he needed was to be laid up for the upcoming challenges. 

He moved thoroughly through the stretching, maybe taking more time than he needed as he moved, but he needed to be aware of his body and focused on the  _ now.  _

Just like he had learned when he had been in the forces and then for hire. Carelessness got you killed. He wasn’t going to be so green as to forget  _ that _ . 

Jack centered himself and finished his routine, his limbs loose and ready for the next workout. Which turned out to be the basics of fighting. He hadn’t done them in ages, but he felt at peace as he moved through the routine of blocks, punches, and kicks. His mind was clear and as he moved towards the large punching bag in the corner, he was starting to craft a plan of attack for dealing with Brock and Stevie. 

Brock...He knew what to do there. 

Jack had gone through it already and knew the pattern. Rip off the bandaid quick, let him wallow, then start working on solutions. It was different than being exposed to TB or having a nasty infection due to the septic bullet wound, but the delivery and outcome would be the same. Brock was a great tactician, but when it came to his personal life, he was sadly predictable. 

Stevie...Jack made a face as he rotated his neck and loosened his shoulders before wrapping up his hands and going to the punching bag. Stevie was a different matter altogether. They hadn’t worked together enough for him to have sussed her out well enough to predict what she would or wouldn’t do. 

All he knew was that she was hormonal, hurt, and feeling betrayed by Brock. 

“Get in line, sweetheart.” Jack muttered as he finished getting ready and started whaling on the bag, making it dance on the chain that he could see had been mended over and over again. He wondered if Stevie had done the same before and the thought amused him somewhat. 

Brock had a pattern of trying to not make it personal, and then always making it too personal and hurting everyone in the process. Despite being a great communicator on the field and exacting precisely what he wanted from his agents...He was completely clueless and inept when it came to being able to do it in his private life. 

Jack got it. He really did. He was all too aware of Brock’s background: Unstable homelife, becoming a Marine through the jail to army pipeline, and easily recruited by SHIELD and HYDRA once the army life didn’t live up to its promise. All of it was not conducive to being open and honest and communicating his feelings. 

He wasn’t exactly great at it, but being stuck in a long term care ward in Tallinn had forced them to turn to each other and break down the barriers between them. A lack of English speakers and the need to stick together had pushed them closer than they otherwise would have been. Jack also suspects it was then that he started to develop a crush on Brock, while Brock started to see him as more than just his SIC and something more. 

Jack’s punches got quicker as he recalled the botched extraction in Kashmir where he had taken a slug in the gut. They had succeeded, but he had been too out of it to withdraw. He dimly recalled the echoes of battle and the feel of his blood leaking out through his fingers. He had briefly closed his eyes, thinking that he was going to bleed out there in the middle of nowhere when he felt someone slap a bandage on his wounds. 

He had screamed then. Or tried to. But any sounds he made were muffled by the hand clamped over his mouth and then by the sickening feeling of being upside down and carried off.

“Not giving you to her just yet, Rollins. I need my SIC.” Brock had growled before Jack had passed out. 

He woke up much later in some barebones hospital somewhere in India, with Brock reading some beat up book with a lurid dragon on the cover. 

It was his laughing that got Brock giving him a drink out of a water bottle and a tired, regretful smile. 

“Should’ve listened to Elway when he told me not to send you in first. Nearly lost you a couple of times before you finally stabilised.” 

Brock wouldn’t meet his eyes, but he did hold Jack’s hand, his grip tightening the moment he had gruffly admitted his mistake and how close Jack had come to death. 

“You didn’t.” Jack whispered quietly. Brock’s snorted at that, biting his lip hard before he moved closer to Jack.

“With luck. I’m not taking that chance again. You hear me? I’m done risking you. I’m done.”

That was the last thing he recalled before their first kiss. Rough and clumsy, but with all of the emotion that Brock hadn’t been able to put into more words. 

It didn’t matter, Jack knew what he meant.

He made the last punch, but it didn’t connect to the bag. 

His fist met a palm that felt harder than the bag itself and jolted him out of his memories. 

“I’ve already destroyed that bag trying to get rid of my memories. Trust me when I tell you it won’t work.” Stevie explained, making Jack crumple and fall into her arms.

“I had to try.” Jack replied, letting her wrap her arms around him and pull him into an embrace. 

“We always do.” Stevie replied, getting a small choked off laugh in return. 

“I can’t face Brock alone, Stevie. I can’t go in there and tell him Pierce fucked him over one last time. I can’t.” Jack whispered tiredly, clinging tightly to her. 

“I know you don’t think you have any say in how to help him. Or that you think he used you, but please...Come with me.”

She pulled away from him and sighed heavily, rubbing her forehead. 

“I read the files. I know what Pierce had you both do. I know what his mission was.”

Stevie asked, her voice cracking with anger and shame. Jack shook his head. 

“And he didn’t go through it in the end. He couldn’t. Even though he knew what would happen to him. He refused and turned his back on all he knew.”

Stevie’s eyes narrowed at that. “What exactly are you telling me?”

“You weren’t supposed to have those fifteen minutes to get out of the Triskelion. Or that truck. Did you think that was all stealth or luck?  _ Think _ .”

Stevie’s face turned white and she nearly stumbled as the information sank in. She had been too overwhelmed and too busy to think about the pieces that had slotted in place. She hadn’t given them a second thought as everything had come too thick and too fast. She hadn’t had time to think of how it would happen. 

She tried to speak, but she wasn’t able to formulate a word. She was too stunned by the revelation that-

“Why? Why? I don’t-I don’t- I don’t understand, Jack. Why? Why did he do it?”

It was Jack’s turn to hold her and give her an anchor to cling to as she got herself centered again. He held her, waiting for the shock to subside before he spoke. 

“You know, Stevie. You know why.”

Stevie’s shook her head. “But he has  _ you _ .”

“And now you. He loves us both. Just like you love him  _ and _ Barnes. There’s no shame in it.”

Stevie inhaled sharply at that. He was right, even if she hadn’t broached the subject with Bucky just yet. Yet another conversation she wasn’t looking forward to having.

“And you don’t mind that he loves us both?”

“Would you if it were the other way around?” Jack asked, smiling gently.

Stevie chewed on her lip as she weighed Jack’s words. Would she? 

“No. I wouldn’t.”

Jack nodded. “Then there is your answer.”

Stevie smiled weakly. “Surely it can’t be that easy.”

Jack shrugged. “It can be. We work as usual. Talk about the details. Plan it like a mission. Then go from there.”

Stevie laughed quietly at that, and hugged him. 

“Shall we get ready? Dr. Cho told me that Brock will be ready to wake up and be more lucid. She thinks that it would be the best time to talk to him. So shall we?”

Jack blew out a deep breath and nodded. “What better time than now? We might as well.”

“Just take a shower first, yeah?”

~*~*~*~*~*

Brock’s eyes fluttered open to see the same grey blue ceiling and dimmed lights from the last time he had woken up. So he was still here, in the medical ward. He opened his mouth to call out, but no sound came. Only the sharp whistling sound and the disconcerting feeling of it going into his neck. 

He winced at that. Great. The tube was still in there. No doubt the others were there as well. He tried to raise his hands to touch it, but found he could only raise them a few inches from the mattress, the padded cuffs pressing against his wrists as he did. He wasn’t going to be grabbing anything anytime soon.

He tried to push the blankets off with his feet, but they stayed still. He looked down at his feet, frowning as he focused harder to make them move. They didn’t and Brock started to feel a coil of fear unwinding in his belly as he tried again. But his feet, his legs, his hips...They all remained still. 

He shifted in bed or tried to, starting to panic when all sensation dulled at his waist and then disappeared. 

Brock groaned as the memory of Pierce shooting him hit him came back in full colour vision. He should have been dead. Or worse, unable to even feel anything below his shoulders. The shot had been deflected. By-

“Brock? You’re awake!” 

Jack and Stevie came into his room along with the female doctor that had been treating him. Their expressions went from happy surprise to wariness the moment they saw his expression. 

“Brock? Do you remember what happened?” Stevie. His Stevie. And his Jack. Always his Jack. She was the first one to realise what was going on with him and to ask. 

She came closer to Brock, Jack right beside her as she cupped his face with her hands, her thumbs stroking his jaw as she spoke. 

Brock nodded. Stevie smiled sadly. As did Jack. 

“Do you want me to say it?”

Brock grimaced. “Just tell me how bad it is.” He mouthed out. 

“T-9 complete paralysis. If I hadn’t shot at Piece, that tube in your neck would be permanent.” Jack explained, making Brock huff in anger.

“I’m sorry, Brock. I’m so sorry.” Stevie whispered, kissing his forehead in apology. 

Brock turned his head, shaking it in an effort to hide his tears. 

His hands were untied. Jack untied them, letting him grab Stevie and push her into Jack. 

“Get out! Get out! Get out!” 

He couldn’t say it out loud, but they understood his meaning, leaving him alone to sob and scream soundlessly as he understood exactly how high the price was that he paid.

He didn’t know how long he silently raged until he felt the cold, heaviness of the sedative, the softness and callous roughened hands of his loves and then black mercy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Brock-I realised that these two are closer than a usual CO and SIC and that I had to visit their story. So having Jack mull over how to break the news of Brock's status made sense to fill in some of the blanks.   
> Jack and Stevie-They're friends, they won't cross the line, but they respect and love each other as well as Brock. It's that simple for them.   
> Brock-He's in shock and it will take awhile for him to get over and it might take awhile for him to get over it all. His injury level leaves him semi-independent, but it is still a hard blow to absorb.


	13. I dare you to do something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock examines his insides and comes to a decision about his life with Jack and Stevie and works for that to happen, rather than to be in limbo as they have been.

Brock lay on his side, pillows against his back as he watched the sunrise. Despite being bone weary, he could only sleep a few hours a night. Even the thick paperbacks that Jack had left weren’t enough to send him to sleep and he had actually worked his way through three of the thousand page bricks. It was getting to the point that he had to draw the series out in case he ran out of reading material before he shook his self-pity off and actually started to take the steps to come to terms with his new normal.

He was fully aware that he couldn’t stay like that forever. Already, his too thin body was protesting the enforced inactivity and the lackluster efforts he was making in physio. Despite the lack of scolding from the head doctor and the physio department, the disapproving looks were starting to get to him. Just like Jack’s own wounded puppy looks as they sat in a fragile and brittle silence that had become the norm between them. 

And Stevie…

Brock closed his eyes and groaned quietly as he combed his fingers through his greasy and too long hair. He felt even worse while doing that, since it had been days since he had been able to wash and the state of his body seemed to exacerbate his mental state. And he hated the feeling and wanted to get rid of it. 

And soon. 

“Oh did I fuck it up. I know I did.” Brock muttered, wincing as he finished the finger combing that he knew did nothing and tried to get comfortable. Or as comfortable as he could get with about half of his body being a deadweight and with tubes still attached to him. 

At least he had gotten rid of some. He swallowed hard and his hand moved to the still bandaged spot at the base of his throat and sniffed with the remembered irritation of the feeding tube.  _ Those _ hadn’t been fun at all and he had been overly relieved to get them out despite the lingering soreness and discomfort of them. The other ones that remained, he stubbornly refused to think about. 

_ “Just like with Stevie, right?” _ His own mind that sounded suspiciously like Jack’s own voice poked at him, making Brock groan again. 

“I know. I  _ definitely _ know.” He muttered, his eyes opening again to stare at the light blue ceiling that was thankfully quiet. He knew from Jack that Stark had an AI in all suites of the towers that they could talk to, but not in the medical wing. Something he and Jack and even the Asset - _ Barnes-  _ were extremely thankful for. Stevie didn’t say anything either way about it, but she had taken the steps to disable it when they had all expressed their reservations. 

She was always doing stuff like that and remembering it made Brock feel even worse about what had gone down between them. He had instantly regretted their last confrontation. He wouldn’t call it a conversation. He could lie to himself about many things, but he wasn’t going to lie about that. Nor would he sugarcoat it.

He hadn’t done it when he had been a Marine, and then when he had been running the gauntlet for both SHIELD and HYDRA, and then back again. He had done questionable things in his career in the name of survival. He had no illusions as to what he and his team were. And he had known that he would have to pay for it all. In this lifetime or later, he was going to have to pay. 

And he was all too aware that he had, without a shadow of a doubt, He didn’t dare recall the words he aimed at her. Like well aimed bullets, they had hit their target dead on. Just like his shots did most of the time at the range. He was ashamed that he had felt a surge of satisfaction when he had seen the light in Stevie’s eyes go out and angry tears coursing down her cheeks before she ran out, leaving Jack to shake his head in disgust and go after her, leaving him to sit with his self-hatred and shame at what he had done. 

They hadn’t come to him for days and Brock couldn’t fault them for it. He would have done the same thing if he was them. Just because he had gotten the short end of the stick in his last clash with Pierce didn’t give him license to be an utter asshole. 

Especially not to the two people he cared about the most in the world. The two people that he had at one point or another fucked over enough to give them cause to up and run as far away from him as they possibly could. 

Brock had  _ that _ much self-awareness to admit that at least. He had screwed up and he needed to make amends and fast. He had gotten that much out of the meetings he had been forced to attend earlier in his career when he was finding himself “taking the edge off” enough times for his CO to notice. It hadn’t been a fun way to spend his time, but he had wanted his military career more than he wanted a drink and he had stuck it out. 

“Too bad you forgot to take personal inventory, huh Brock?” He asked himself sarcastically as he glanced over to the bedside clock and saw it was only a matter of time when the morning rounds started. He swallowed that bitter truth down hard. He had acted like a twat. And he needed to make it right. 

Not just with Jack or Stevie. But his doctor and physio. What was left of SHIELD. And himself. He couldn’t continue like this. Three weeks were enough. 

He wanted to move on. Get out of this room and continue to live the life he had worked so hard to cling onto. Maybe build a family with Jack and Stevie and the kid he had been unexpectedly presented with. Make it right somehow, rather than leave a trail of blood and destruction behind him. 

He was still thinking about what he needed to do in order to sort the shards of his broken life out, turning and turning the possibilities over in his mind when the next thing he heard was a voice insisting he wake.

“Brock, come on Brock. Wake up, will you?” He batted the hand that was poking at him half-heartedly, and tried to get to sleep. He was having such a good sleep that he didn’t want to give it up. It had been too long since he had that and he didn’t want to give up. 

The poking became a pinch that yanked him roughly out of sleep and made his eyes fly open to see Jack sitting at his bedside, his expression one of grim satisfaction at having woken him up. He raised an eyebrow and sighed as he scrubbed his face roughly in an effort to get fully awake. He knew Jack wouldn’t let him go back to sleep once he had woken up. He knew since he had done it to Jack when he had been in hospital so he knew what was up.

“I’m up. I’m up. Don’t make me regret it. What do you want?” Brock ground out as he shifted, scowling when he realised the nurses had moved him to lie on his side facing Jack. 

It normally wouldn’t have mattered, but the gleam in Jack’s green eyes told him that the conversation he had been apathetically putting off was finally at hand.

Jack didn’t reply right away and simply stared at him, his eyes going cool and narrow as he looked at Brock sharply, taking everything in as if Brock was a target. Brock swallowed hard, but waited for Jack to continue his scrutiny. He knew that look. Knew it from countless stake outs and missions. So he waited. 

It took only a few more minutes before Jack nodded and sat back in his chair, his arms crossing as he did so. 

“You’ve already given it to me. I haven’t seen this version of you since we ended up in Pierce’s office.” Jack replied, his expression softening slightly. Brock frowned, but didn’t say anything to refute that. He knew that Jack had been far more patient than he had deserved while he was sunk into his misery and impotent anger. 

“It has been awhile since I have felt like myself. Or had any incentive to behave as such.” 

Jack snorted. “What changed? You were still an asshole two days ago. Well, a bigger one than usual.”

Brock winced, but didn’t refute the observation. Jack was right on the money, as always. 

“I got tired of feeling sorry for myself. Of blaming everyone for the consequences of my choices. I was all too aware what Pierce was capable of. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been there when he worked. Or what crossing him led to. I knew and I still had to try. For all of your sakes.”

Jack made a soft sound at the back of his throat, encouraging Brock to go on. His hand itched to reach out to Brock, but he didn’t want to break his train of thought. Not when he was actually  _ talking _ rather than spewing out bitter barbs or sinking into sullen silence. 

“I thought it was too high of a price to pay when I woke up like this. And I lost track of what I had gained in doing so. And I got sick of the distance between us. I was in the wrong and it took time to see how much I had wounded you both.” 

Brock sighed heavily and tentatively reached out for Jack, who to his great relief, didn’t pull away from him. In fact, he squeezed Brock’s hand, encouraging him to continue. Brock smiled and Jack’s throat tightened. 

“I was never good at sitting still. Brooding and wasting away. I’m not that. You know that. I just needed time. And to properly come up with an apology to you and-”

Brock’s words were stilled by Jack’s fingertips pressing to his lips. 

“I know, Brock. I know. I was just waiting for you to realise it. Now come here.”

Before he could say anything else, Jack pulled him into his arms and held him tightly. 

“I missed you. I missed  _ this _ .”

Jack laughed wetly. “Me too. But oh god do you need a bath. You stink.”

And for the first time in weeks, Brock found himself laughing.

~*~*~*~*~*

Stevie knocked on the doorframe before she entered the room, her pulse throbbing fast in her neck, her hand tightening around the brown envelope she held. She was nervous as all out, even though Jack assured her. He hadn’t told her how Brock was when he visited. Only that things had changed.

And that Brock wanted to see her. 

She took two days to think it over. Whether she really wanted to see the man that had both blessed her with a child, and torn her to shreds once he had gotten his voice back. In the end, as she sat up in bed with Jack and Bucky sleeping beside her, she decided to go to him. She needed to know if the Brock she knew would be gone forever. 

She had to know if it was fine to abandon all hope and move on. To mourn the potential of what she thought she had with him. 

So she had steeled herself to come to Brock’s room, an envelope full of information she had been putting off giving…

Only to have silence greet her and to find the room empty with no sign of him anywhere. 

“Just freaking great.” 

She walked into the room, taking slow steps and long slow breaths to calm down and try and release some of the sick anticipation at seeing Brock again. 

And also to see what he had been up to those weeks they hadn’t seen each other. Jack didn’t say much about the visits. He was usually so drained when he came back that Stevie would only pull him to her and hold him for as long as he needed. Bucky would make some comfort dinner and they would either watch a movie or quietly do their hobbies. 

She talked to Bucky, Sam, her therapist, Nat, about Jack and Brock. She wouldn’t talk about Brock to Jack though. That was too raw of a wound to touch. Maybe after she saw him. Maybe. 

She walked around the room, taking in the fats stack of paperbacks on the side table. The pamphlets aimed at getting Brock used to his new situation with the pastel colours and a graphic designer’s idea of soothing fonts. The black hoodie thrown over the chair. The soft, thick blanket on the unmade bed. The pillows. Some paperwork. A notebook, one of those classy hardcover types, barely started, the pen keeping it open. 

She was still staring at the notebook when she heard voices in the hallway coming closer. She took a deep breath and steeled herself. This was it. 

Stevie turned around in time to see Brock in a hospital wheelchair being pushed by a tall, solidly built man dressed in a navy tracksuit with the hospital’s logo on the jacket. Brock was wearing something similar in black and he looked...Good. Almost like how he looked back at the Triskelion. 

He was still too thin, his cheekbones and nose standing out too sharply from his pale face. His hair was clean and freshly styled, but it was too long. His colour was good, but not the same healthy tan that she associated with him. The bandage at the base of his neck was a stark contrast, making her wince. But his eyes were the difference. They weren’t dull or empty. They were alive and sharp like they used to be and that was what prompted her forward. 

The other man, his physio no doubt, made himself scarce, acknowledging her and reminding Brock of his next appointment before taking off, leaving them to face each other.

They stared at each other in silence for what felt like an eternity before Brock huffed a quiet laugh. 

“Sit down, Stevie. If we’re going to have it out, you might as well be comfortable. I’m sure being nearly seven months along isn’t fun. Super soldier or not.”

Stevie shook her head as she sank down in the well worn chair that was no doubt Jack’s when he came to visit. Brock was right, but she wouldn’t admit it. She wasn’t ready to give him that just yet. 

“As much as I am glad to see you, I know you wouldn’t have come just to visit. Not with how we left it.” Brock started, blunt as always, but a much needed opening, since Stevie didn’t quite know what she was going to say when she finally saw him, despite running the moment over and over in her mind. 

“I was curious.” Brock raised an eyebrow at that. Stevie shrugged. 

“I wanted to see if there was something left of the man I had met in the Triskelion. And if we could salvage something. Or if it was time to move on and build a life with someone else.”

Brock blinked at her words, slumping as their meaning hit him. He looked exactly like he did when they had sparred in the past, when she had landed a good hit and he didn’t want to admit it. But it was obvious it hurt. 

Brock nodded and blew out a breath. “I deserved that. I was an asshole to you. I can admit that.” 

Stevie nods. “You were. But now the question is what are you going to do about it?”

Brock swallowed hard and looked over to the pile of books and more specifically, the notebook before he answered her. 

“Ask you for another try. Another chance to make it right because I don’t want to lose one of the best things that happened to me. I want to see my kid and have a family. Even if it didn’t start out that way.”

He looked at her, his eyes dark with emotion while Stevie’s hands curled around the envelope she had placed on her lap. 

“It started out as a job. I won’t lie about that. What Pierce said, went. It should have stayed as such, but you were different. I started loving you and I knew I was lost when Pierce told me his plans for you. I couldn’t let him use you like that.”

Stevie’s throat tightened and it took her a couple of false starts to speak. 

“So you planned that delay? You knew what I was going to do?”

Brock nodded, rubbing his face roughly. “I knew something was going to happen once Fury went under. Just not what exactly. And when Pierce started factoring you into HYDRA’s breeding program, I had to do something. Jack helped. And it worked out. Well...Mostly.”

He flashed a bitter smile at his legs, drawing a small noise of sympathy from Stevie. She understood. Not quite how Bucky understood it, but she got it. Despite the metal arm, she knew Bucky missed what he used to have. What he used to be.

“And I was angry that the price was too high so I pushed you all away.”

“And now? What will it be, Brock? If I were to say we can try again, would you want to? Or will you just keep pushing me and Jack away? I need to know. What will it be?”

Stevie’s mouth was dry, her voice barely above a whisper when she spoke, but she was determined. She needed to know. To know if it was all worth it, or to walk away. 

Brock laughed, his tone slightly disbelieving as he did. 

“I want to try again if you’d let me.”

Stevie’s mouth wobbled as she got out of the chair and kissed him.

“I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brock: He's not super moody or introspective, but he has his moments. And since he has a lot of time on his hands, he finally does examine his insides and has to make amends. He also has the old army habit of reading while he waits for things to happen and fantasy novels are pretty good to waste time. So he's reading series.   
> He also has been forced to be in 12 step programs, so he knows the drill. He's not got subtance abuse issues, but came close.   
> Jack: They have had vigils at each other's bedsides, so Jack knows how the drill is here. Some self-pity, some sadness and back to the usual. He was worried when Brock looked to be majorly slipping into what could be a depression.   
> Stevie: She is hurt by what Brock did and what he said, but she is willing to hear Brock out before she ends it all.


	14. Gonna Live For These Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky makes his decision. Jack and Brock have a moment, and Stevie finds strength and family, despite one of her important persons being gone.

_ Bucky was leaning forward, his knees resting on his elbows and his hands looped together as he listened to the last instructions of his psychologist and counselor. Despite knowing them all due to numerous discussions, he still forced himself to pay attention. Although he had no doubt that he was getting the recommendation to go back into the field, he wasn’t going to do anything that could possibly make them change their minds.  _

_ So he listened, and nodded at the appropriate moments before they both agreed to sign off on his going back to the field.  _

_ He didn’t move until they got the okay from Fury and printed out his assignment and parameters for his mission.  _

_ “I know we have discussed this before, but are you positive you want to leave Stevie and Jack?”  _

_ Dr. Assante asked, her dark eyes sharp as she handed him the freshly printed paperwork.  _

_ “I am. Stevie and I talked about it earlier.” Bucky replied, scanning the papers and folding them down to put in a pocket as he stood up in a fluid motion.  _

_ He smiled at Dr. Assante and Dr. Morin, a slight man with short hair who looked far too young to be working at what was now becoming the second incarnation of SHIELD. _

_ “How did she take it?” Dr. Morin asked, clearly curious.  _

_ Bucky shrugged. “As well as she usually takes things. But she eventually came around.” _

_ He was being vague, but he knew that they would pick up on what was being left unsaid. Not that he wanted to be. But simply because he didn’t want to talk about the long talks, the heated arguments, the slammed doors and silences that Jack and Sam would have to navigate. Not to mention Brock, who added another dimension of awkwardness to the situation.  _

_ And as much as he loved Stevie, he couldn’t sit by and watch everything implode. Not to mention watch her have a child with another man.  _

_ As much as he talked to the doctors, Jack and Sam, he couldn’t bring himself to just be okay about the idea of her being in love with not just him, but Brock too. He got it. In theory. But he simply couldn’t accept it just like that.  _

_ Maybe with time and distance he could. But right now… _

_ So he had sat her down and explained it. Point by point. As calmly as he possibly could until she had finally bitten her lip and nodded tearfully.  _

_ “Will she be there before you ship out?” Dr. Assante asked quietly. Bucky shook his head.  _

_ “I ship out tonight. We...We already said our goodbyes.” Bucky explained, willing himself to not give anything away about the night they had spent alone in their quarters.  _

_ It had been what he had hoped for in the war and more, even though it wasn’t quite how he had expected it to be. Namely Stevie being in the family way and sadly watching him in the predawn light as he got ready. It wasn’t a last goodbye, but he still could taste the bittersweetness of her kisses as he recalled it.  _

_ “Alright. Well, good luck, Sergeant Barnes. As always, we shall see you when you return.” _

_ Bucky gave them a nod each and exited the office, glad to be out of there and glad to be thinking of the mission up ahead.  _

_ Compared to what he was facing, it was much less complicated.  _

_ And lord knew he needed simple right now. _

~*~*~*~*~

Brock finished the last rep and put the weights down on the rack, pleased that he could handle the heavier weights now that he had been able to work out steadily. He wasn’t quite up to his usual weight, but his physio did say that would be possible with slow and steady work. He had that as a goal to reach and he was fine with that. 

His arms were shaking and he was dripping sweat, telling him he was done for the day. As much as he hated to give up, he knew he would pay for it the day after. And the last thing he wanted was for his arms to be in so much pain he couldn’t do anything. He had done it  _ once _ and it was enough for him to learn his lesson. 

Keeping that in mind, he made sure to wipe himself and the equipment down before getting out of his chair and onto the mats to stretch properly. He went through the stretches like his physio had taught him, being careful to follow up all of the steps. Once he was done, he managed to get into his chair, wincing a bit at the soreness and headed to the elevator.

“Home please.” Brock ground out, stretching and loosening the muscles a bit as the elevator headed up to their floors. Despite being creeped out by the AI of Stark’s, Brock used it regularly. Especially since he couldn’t quite reach the buttons and didn’t dare try and reach with how sore he was. 

He kept shifting and moving as to not get too stiff and made his way to the large bathroom that had been remodelled for his needs. It was wide, brightly lit, with a lowered sink and toilet. The shower had a sturdy bench for him to sit and shower without any issues and big enough for another person to be there. Just in case. 

Brock hoped that one day it would be for something else. Something along the lines of intimacy. He missed it badly, but hadn’t approached the subject with either Jack or Stevie. He had been too sunk into self-pity for one and for the other, he didn’t feel like a sexual being just yet. He was getting there, but he was still a bit daunted about the mechanics. 

So he pushed that out of his mind and worked to get stronger and get independent. He may have been paralysed, but he wasn’t going to be anyone's burden. Least of all Stevie's and Jack's.

Brock sighed, pushing the idea away before he picked up towels and moved to the shower. Parking his chair, he transferred over to the shower bench and placed a towel on the seat, then put the other on top. Once that was done he closed the door and started his shower, groaning as the hot water hit his tight muscles. He scrubbed at his hair and sighed, losing himself in the sensual pleasure of hot water teasing out the knots in his neck and shoulders.

He sat there, lulled by the beat of water, nearly asleep when a knock pulled him out of his near doze. 

"Brock! Are you sleeping? Why didn't you call me?" 

Jack asked as he quickly stripped out of his trackies and tank top and got inside. Brock could only stare and make soft noises at the sight. Even wearing black boxer shorts, Jack was still as fit and as sexy as ever, with long lean lines and sinewy muscles with hidden strength. A strength that Brock had seen and experienced first hand during those difficult first times. 

"Didn't think I needed to." Brock murmured as he reached for a washcloth and soap, only to grab at Jack's hand already holding the items.

"Easy. Don't worry about it. Let me." Jack whispered, as he bent to the task. His hands moving quickly and gently all over Brock's body, making him moan at the touch. It had been far too long since he had been touched that way. 

“You sure?” Brock slurred as he felt Jack’s hands in his hair as he washed his hair, gently massaging his scalp and eliciting more moans from Brock again. It had definitely been far too long since he had been touched as if he was more than a patient. In fact, it was so long that he was ready to melt in a puddle of bliss right there in the shower. 

At least until Jack turned off the water and bundled him up in a towel, rubbing at his head with another one and bringing him back to earth. He was back to earth again and he was slightly embarrassed that Jack again had to help him with such a simple task. The moment was gone and Brock was sorry to see it go, but he had no idea of how to bring it back without it being  _ too _ awkward.

He opened his eyes in time to see Jack moving his wheelchair closer to the shower for the transfer. Seeing this made heat creep up in his cheeks and he raised his arms to do it. Or rather  _ tried _ to, only to find his arms were dead weights and wouldn’t obey him. Guess he did overdo it in the gym.

“Fuck.” It was whispered, but it was loud enough for Jack to hear. 

“Do you need help?” Jack asked tactfully, pulling on his track pants and tank top again, giving time for Brock to say yes or no. Although he didn’t mind taking care of Brock, he knew that it was a delicate negotiation for Brock to even agree to help. So he waited, tamping down the impatience at having to stretch out a small task. But he had learned his lesson and simply distracted himself by throwing his wet boxers in the laundry chute.

“Please. I’m like a limp noodle.” Brock gritted out. As much as he had learned how to ask for help, it didn’t mean that it was always easy to do. He still had his pride, even though he had to swallow it more often than not lately.

Jack nodded and got Brock into the towel covered chair as unobtrusively as possible, settling Brock in before wheeling him to the large bedroom they shared with Stevie now that Bucky was gone. The bed was a king sized bed. Which one, Jack wasn’t sure. Only that it was big enough to fit all of them and all of the pillows that Brock needed in order to sleep comfortably now that his lower half didn’t work. 

“Bed? Or clothes first?” Jack asked. 

“Clothes, then bed, thank you.” Brock replied, relieved that Jack had asked instead of just pushing him to a direction. He and Stevie were tactful enough and he appreciated it. It was always the small things, he mused as he was able to get a t-shirt, underwear, and soft fleecy pants he had developed a fondness for. 

He got himself dressed, only needing help at the end, when he was nearly slumping into Jack’s arms. As much as he hated being so tired, he was proud that he had mostly finished. And there was the added bonus of having Jack’s arms around him, soothing him. The wanting came back, but he was also exhausted, making them a moot point. 

“Come on then.” Jack murmured, picking Brock up and getting him settled into the bed with the pillows and under the heavy, soft blankets that they all loved to cuddle under. Something that he would have liked to have done with Jack at that point.

“Have a good sleep then.” Jack murmured, giving him a gentle kiss and caressing his cheek before turning to go. 

“Could you stay?” 

Jack paused. “You sure?”

“Of course. I always am. I just don’t always say it.” Brock muttered, making Jack snort a laugh. 

“You always have a way with words, Rumlow.” Jack murmured once he was in bed, spooning Brock and nuzzling into his neck, making him shiver and sigh happily. 

“Always, Rollins.” Brock slurred, his words lost once sleep gripped him.

“I know.” 

Was the last thing Brock heard before he felt a soft kiss being pressed on his shoulders and then nothing.

~*~*~*~*~*

Stevie was rubbing her back as she stretched, groaning slightly as the kinks eased in her back. As much as she wanted this kid, she was starting to get pretty tired of being achy all the time. She couldn’t even see her feet and if she had to eat another pistachio and banana pudding, she was going to scream. 

Not to mention the enforced rest. Which did nothing to ease the doubts and anxieties counseling didn’t  _ quite _ smooth away. Even though she was sure that without the full effects of the serum she could still train, the doctors and her friends, even Bucky had forced her to rest. And she was sure that Bucky was the reason why Tony had made the gym off access to her. 

She knew that he was concerned, but she still couldn’t help the small curl of annoyance in her belly at that restriction. Which was pushed down by the realisation that she wasn’t going to see Bucky for weeks. Or maybe even months. And quite possibly not have him by when she finally gave birth. 

“At least that’s soon.” She muttered, smoothing a hand down the large curve of her belly. At least  _ that _ deadline was quickly approaching. Just a month or so, Dr. Cho had assured her. And then it would be over. And her and Brock’s baby would be born. 

And add another change to their lives. 

That, Stevie couldn’t help but to worry about. She sighed and walked around the empty common area, her feet complaining as she got moving again. They had just gotten used to having Brock back in their lives and making it somewhat work amongst them. And now with Bucky leaving and the baby coming...It was going to be another big adjustment. 

And adjustment that she hoped would go well. But doubt ate at her either way. 

“Face it, you expect it all to blow up in your face. Despite everything, you still expect the worst.” She muttered as she smoothed her hair back and made her way to her art studio. Maybe art would be the key to push those doubts away. At least for a time.

As she walked there, she idly wondered where Jack was. She knew Brock was at the gym, but she wasn’t sure about Jack. Even if he wasn’t near, his presence was comforting to her now that Bucky was gone. 

Not seeing him, she pushed her disappointment away at neither of them being away. She knew he would be around soon. Just like Brock as well. She couldn’t blame them for wanting some time alone. Particularly Jack. The man had the patience of a saint, but he was human. He needed his time alone.

Things were fine. He wasn’t going to take off to hunt down his former colleagues. ( _ Not like Bucky)  _ Jack was done and had said as much when he had turned state’s evidence. Their little family was all he wanted and he was content to let the others continue the fight. 

Something that Bucky, Sam, and Nat were now doing while they sat in reserve.

It was coming together and yet…

Stevie shook her head and smoothed her hand down the blank page, her pencil poised to draw. She stared at the page blankly until her pencil started moving, but all she could draw was Bucky’s face. She missed him. She got it, but missed him and ached with it.

She bit her lip and put the pencil down and pushed the sketchbook away and sat there, absentmindedly rubbing her belly and making the baby wriggle about excitedly. 

She sat there until the loneliness and her back forced her to get up and head to the bedroom.

She wasn’t exactly tired, but a nap wouldn’t hurt. Especially not when her back was hurting and her ankles hurting. She glanced at the sketchbook and closed it. Maybe tomorrow would be more productive. She hoped so. 

Firmly pushing it out of her mind, she quietly entered the bedroom and was pleasantly surprised to see Brock and Jack already there. 

She stood for a bit, taking the sight of them in the bed, with Jack protectively and tenderly curled up around Brock while they both slept. Brock’s face was relaxed and calm, reminding her of when she had fallen for him. Despite their differences, she couldn’t help the tenderness he would bring up in her. 

She was standing there, lost in her thoughts when Jack stirred awake and fixed those cat green eyes on her, soft and welcoming despite being smudged with sleep.

“Why are you standing there for, come on then.” He murmured, pulling the blankets back in an open invitation. 

Once Stevie was settled with them, Jack kissed her forehead and pulled her close. 

“Alright?” 

Stevie kissed his cheek, drawing a sleepy smile from him and a mumbled question from Brock. 

“I will be now. Thank you.”

Stevie replied, finding much to her tired surprise, that she spoke the truth. She would be alright. They would be alright. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky-I wanted to have them all be together, but Bucky felt out of place and in need to come to terms with the new arrangements he's part of as well as wrapping his head around what he did. He still loves Stevie, but he needs time to accept he's not her only one.   
> Brock-He hates being vulnerable, yet he has missed this intimacy and starting it with Jack, who has been there since day one, makes sense.   
> Jack-Somehow he ended up being the soft centre for the relationship, bridging the last hurts between Brock and Stevie. Still not sure if they will ever cross that line, but for now, they're super close friends.   
> Stevie-She's afraid, uncertain and lonely for Bucky. But she comes to realise that despite it all, she's not alone and can rely on the found family she has there to help her through the rough times. 
> 
> And this story has finally come to a close. Thank you all who read, commented and left kudos. greatly appreciated! Certainly kept me going when I was a bit lost at times. This was a quite a different story than I have written despite the familiar elements. It also kind of made me start liking Frank Grillo and Callan Mulvey a bit too much! XD!


End file.
